The Sorcerer of Camelot
by DwaejiTokki
Summary: Merlin, secretly raised by King Uther, discovers that his magic is not a curse, but a blessing. With the help of the Druid Guinevere and the knight Arthur, can Merlin make Camelot a safe place for all its citizens? Complete.
1. Prologue

The Sorcerer of Camelot

 **Summary** : Merlin, secretly raised by King Uther, discovers that his magic is not a curse, but a blessing. With the help of the Druid Guinevere and the knight Arthur, can Merlin make Camelot a safe place for all its citizens?

 **Rating** : T, just 'cause.

 **Disclaimer** : I own neither Disney's _Hunchback of Notre Dame_ nor BBC's _Merlin_.

Prologue

In the early hours of the morning, a thick fog hung over the city of Camelot. Only the turrets of the palace could be seen looming through the haze. The inky river flowed silently just inside the walls of Camelot, a constant water source for the people.

A small boat coursed swiftly through the water, steered along by a dark-hooded man at the stern. His passengers sat low, cloaks drawn tightly around their shoulders, hoping to avoid detection. Their only chance of survival was to enter the city and get to safety as quickly as possible. It was a long and treacherous journey for their persecuted people.

The silence was shattered by a harsh wail, startling the boat's occupants.

"Shut it up, will you?" one of the men, Balinor, snapped lowly.

"We'll be spotted!" hissed the other, Iseldir.

"Hush, little Emrys," whispered the lone woman to the swaddled infant in her arms. Her desperate eyes shone down at the child, bouncing him slightly. The baby was hungry, but there was no time.

Luckily, Emrys seemed to realize this and fell silent. His bottle blue eyes sparked gold for a fraction of a second, and Hunith felt the warmth of tender love spreading through her chest. Her baby's eyes slipped closed and he appeared to go back to sleep.

At last, the steerer pushed the boat toward the dock and stepped off, kneeling to tie off the rope so it didn't drift away. Once the passengers were on land, shuffling their feet in the snow, Agravaine held out his palm. "Four silvers for safe passage into Camelot."

Just as Iseldir was pulling out his pouch to pay the man, an arrow swooshed through the air and struck Agravaine's oar with a resounding thwack! The traitor Agravaine quickly dropped the splintered oar and held up his hands in surrender. The passengers wheeled around. They had been trapped!

Balinor gazed up in trepidation as a horseback figure approached. "King Uther Pendragon," he breathed.

Several guards moved forward and took hold of the men to arrest them. Hunith clutched her bundle to her chest, eyes casting wildly for help, for escape. Iseldir and Balinor had already been forced to their knees, and the guards were attempting to push her down, as well. She tore away from their grasping hands.

Uther commanded in a disgusted tone, "Bring these Druid vermin to the Palace of Justice."

"You there!" snapped one guard at Hunith, who flinched. "What are you hiding?!"

Uther turned to her, gray eyes staring coldly. "Enchanted objects, no doubt," he said. "Take them from her."

Hunith stumbled back, eyes wide and fearful. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Balinor manage to tear one arm free and fling it toward her would-be captors, who all cried out as they were magically thrown into the freezing water. She took her chance and sprinted away, nearly slipping on the wet snow.

With an ugly grimace, Uther kicked his horse into motion and gave chase.

Though Hunith was at a severe disadvantage, she was swift, and cunning enough to choose ways that would make it difficult for the horse to follow. She jumped a short gate between two close houses, and Uther was forced to pull back on the reigns and find a wider path. The Druid scrambled to her feet out of the snow drift in which she had landed, Emrys still clutched to her breast.

She needed a place to hide!

Suddenly she remembered something important: even King Uther could not disobey the laws of the Camelot Palace - the church. Those who sought shelter there were safe under the care of the physician! The Palace was easy to spot. It was the tallest building in the city, and she was close!

Hearing hooves pounding toward her, Hunith set into motion once more, beelining toward the church. She cast a terrified glance over her shoulder, only to see Uther gaining on her, hand outstretched to grab her.

Giving a short, desperate sob, Hunith made a detour through a small alley. Emrys wriggled in his mother's uncomfortable hold, whimpering quietly. Hunith didn't dare spare him any comfort. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to escape, to reach the Palace, to save him! save him! save him!

As she drew closer to safety, King Uther began to catch up with her again. He clearly realized what she was about to do, the storm in his eyes growing as it appeared she would make it.

Hunith flung herself at the doors, pushed and tugged, but to no avail. The doors were locked. She kicked and pounded, pressing herself against the cold wood as though she could phase through it. "Sanctuary!" she begged shrilly. "Please give us sanctuary!"

Uther had at last reached her.

Hunith spun around, narrowly avoiding being trampled. She pushed herself to her feet and made another break for it, but Uther's grasping hand had found the swaddle. He apparently believed whatever was inside it was giving her the strength to outrun him, and by taking it away he could overpower her.

With all her strength, Hunith held onto Emrys, but a swift, well-placed kick from Uther's steel-toed boot sent her sprawling backwards down the steps of the Palace. Her head cracked loudly against the cut stone, and she went limp.

Hanging from Uther's cruel grip, Emrys immediately noticed the absence of his mother and began to cry. "A baby?" For a moment the king was startled. The father in him awakened, and he drew the child close to look at him. He gently uncovered the soft blanket that obscured his face.

"No," he gasped, repulsed by the flickering gold that appeared in Emrys' eyes. "A Druid," he hissed.

Uther quickly covered the hideous creature again, looking about for a means to dispose of it. He spotted the well nearby and steered his dark horse toward it. Emrys continued to wail for Hunith even as the king extended the baby over the gaping hole.

A sudden voice, strong and commanding, called out. "Stop!"

The king whipped his head toward the sound, the bundle still hanging above the well. A simple release, and the Druid spawn would die.

"This is an evil sorcerer," Uther explained curtly. "I am sending it back to Hell, where it belongs."

The old physician, Gaius, slowly pushed himself up from his knees on the stairs. "Here you have spilled innocent blood on the steps of Camelot," he said angrily, gesturing to the deceased woman. The snow beneath her head was dyed red, her skin pale and lifeless.

"I am guiltless," Uther bit out. "She ran, I pursued."

"Now you would add that child's blood to your guilt!" Gaius stepped forward, glaring the king down.

"My conscience is clear!"

"You can lie to yourself and your minions," Gaius said. "But you never can run from nor hide what you've done from the eyes," he pointed up to the Palace's religious statues, "the very eyes of Camelot."

A slight suffocating feeling formed in Uther's throat as he gazed up at the figures, the ones to whom he had prayed all his life. His holy wife had joined them not too long ago, honored for having given her life during childbirth. What would she think of him killing a child, regardless of whether it would grow up to be evil? Uther swallowed hard, not liking the answer.

He turned to Gaius. "What must I do?" he asked, at last pulling the Druid away from the well.

"Care for the child," Gaius said. "And raise it as your own."

"What?" the king hissed in disgust. "I'm to be saddled with this horrible..." He paused as a thoughtful expression crept across his face. "Very well. Let him live here with you, in your church."

"Live here?" repeated Gaius. "Where?"

"Anywhere." Uther's eyes traveled up the building as though searching for an empty room to house the child. "Just so he's kept locked away where no one else can see. The bell tower, perhaps. And who knows - Our lord works in mysterious ways."

He glanced down at Gaius, who didn't appear to object, and then smiled contemptuously down at Emrys. "Even this foul Druid may yet prove one day to be of use to me."

"He will need a wet nurse, Uther," Gaius said. "And a name."

"Yes, yes," he said. "I will leave it to you, then." He quickly pushed the baby off on the physician, who took him. Uther flicked the reigns of his horse and started off.

"King Uther," Gaius called. "What of the babe's name?"

"Oh, I don't know," he drawled without stopping. "I suppose we'll name it...Merlin."

"Merlin," Gaius repeated with a sigh. He gave the baby a sorrowful look. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you." He turned to take the child inside where it was warm. He'd have to get help to bring in Hunith's body and to prepare it for her final rest in Avalon.

Emrys, forevermore known as Merlin, cooed softly, sounding sad himself. His eyes flickered gold once more, searching out the familiar presence of his mother's magic, to no avail.


	2. The Festival of Fools

Chapter 1 - The Festival of Fools

[Twenty Years Later]

A young man, tall and lanky, climbed out onto the balcony of the bell tower, overlooking the bustling courtyard below. His blue eyes watched the activity excitedly, a bright grin lighting up his childish features. He joined the blonde man who was leaning on his elbows.

"Good morning!" he greeted, noting the clear blue skies and bright sunlight.

The blonde, Will, silently pointed to the chirping little bird in its nest between them.

Merlin's grin only seemed to widen. "Will today be the day?" he asked it. "Are you ready to fly?"

The little bird flitted its wings a bit, but did not attempt it.

"You're sure?" Merlin asked, scooping it up into his hands. "Good day to try. Why, if I picked a day to fly, oh, this would be it! The Festival of Fools! It will be fun-the jugglers, and music, and dancing..."

As Merlin spoke, the bird began to flap its wings again. Noticing, Merlin slowly removed his hands, and the bird fluttered off a bit unsteadily. A calling flock of birds flew by, and the newest addition immediately set off towards them.

"Go on!" Merlin encouraged. "Nobody wants to be cooped up here forever!"

"Oh, man!" Will uttered, watching it go as well. "I thought he'd never leave!" With that, he swiped the nest off the balcony, wrinkling his nose at the white dropping that were left behind. "Hey, Merlin! What's going on down there? A fight? A flogging?"

Merlin smiled at his active friend, then studied the brightly-dressed people.

"A festival!" a voice exclaimed. Lancelot and Freya, both with dark hair and kind brown eyes, appeared behind them and looked out at the activity as well. It was Lancelot who had spoken, eyes twinkling merrily.

"You mean the Feast of Fools?!" Will gasped.

Merlin nodded. "Uh-huh!"

"All right, all right!" Will grinned. "Pour the wine and cut the cheese!" He shoved one hand under his shirt and made a farting noise with his armpit. Freya grimaced at his antics.

"It is a treat to watch the colorful pageantry of the peasant folk," Lancelot said.

"You're a peasant," Will reminded him.

Lancelot scowled, gesturing to his sword and chainmail. "Trying to pass as a knight, thank you."

Will shrugged and jumped up to sit on the balcony railing. "Boy, nothing like balcony seats for watching the ol' F.O.F."

Merlin's wide smile suddenly faded. "Yeah," he said dejectedly. "Watching." He turned away from the courtyard, hanging his head, and returned to the bell tower.

After sharing a quick glance amongst them, the three scurried inside after him.

"Aren't you going to watch the festival with us?" Lancelot asked.

Merlin shook his head and sat down at his carving table. He had made several figurines of the people he saw everyday below, and had replicated the church and the surrounding buildings. The diorama was his prized possession, something he had constructed very carefully with his own hands. Although it was Gaius who had taught him, back when Uther still allowed Merlin to come down from the bell tower. Gaius was too old and arthritic to make it up all the stairs, so they rarely saw one another anymore.

"I don't get it," Will whispered, perplexed.

"Perhaps he's sick!" Lancelot exclaimed.

"Impossible," Freya said dismissively. "If twenty years of listening to you two hasn't made him sick by now, nothing will."

Lancelot frowned sadly. "But watching the Festival of Fools has always been the highlight of the year for Merlin."

"What good is watching the party if you never get to go hear it?" Freya asked. "He's not a figment of anyone's imagination, like us."

While the boys shared conceding looks, Freya approached Merlin and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her sadly, turning the baker in his fingers. "Merlin, what's wrong?" she asked kindly. "Do you want to tell me?"

"I," he started. But then his eyes shuttered, blocking his emotions, and he turned back to the painted townspeople with a pout. "I just don't feel like watching the festival, that's all."

"Well," Freya said, "did you ever think about going there instead?"

Merlin's head snapped back and he gazed at her in alarm.

Lancelot appeared at his other side, beaming. "Sure!" he said.

The young man shook his head. "I'd never fit in down there," he said quickly. "I'm not...normal."

"Oh, Merlin," Freya sighed, cupping his cheek. "Merlin, Merlin."

"Don't believe that!" Will chastised.

"As your friends and guardians," Lancelot said, "we insist that you attend the festival."

"Me?!" Merlin yelped, touching his chest. He frantically shook his head again, pushing himself away from the table in an attempt to escape.

"Of course you!" Will said.

"It would be an educational experience," Lancelot added.

Will spread his arms. "Wine, women, and song!"

"You can learn to identify various regional cheeses," Lancelot smirked.

"Bobbing for apples!"

"And the indigenous folk music."

Freya intercepted Merlin as he paced, rooting him by putting her hands on his shoulders. "Merlin, take it from me. Life is not a spectator sport. If watching is all you're going to do, then you're going to watch your life go by without you."

"Yeah," Will agreed, "you're living, with the flesh, and the hair, and the eating. We're just part of your mind, right Lancelot?"

Lancelot nodded. "Yet, if you think of us, do we not appear? If you forget us, do we not disappear?"

"Merlin," Freya smiled, "just grab a fresh tunic and a clean pair of pants and -"

"Thanks for the encouragement," Merlin said at last, "but you're all forgetting one thing."

"What?" they asked in unison, smiles fading.

"My master," Merlin answered somberly. "Uther."

"Right," they said, shoulders slumping. If there was one thing they all feared and hated more than anything, it was Uther.

"Well," Lancelot said thoughtfully, "when he says you're forbidden from ever leaving the bell tower, does he mean 'ever ever'?"

"Never ever," Merlin clarified, raising his eyebrow sternly in an imitation of Gaius. "And he hates the Feast of Fools! He'd be furious if I asked to go."

Will sniffed and grinned mischievously. "Who says you've got to ask?"

"Oh, no," Merlin shook his head.

"You sneak out," Will said, gesturing grandly to the balcony.

"It's just one afternoon," Freya insisted quietly.

"And you sneak back in," Will finished, pointing to the dusty floorboards under their feet. Though Merlin tried to keep the place clean, it was difficult. The open-air room was perfect for the bells, but less than perfect for living space. It was very drafty, to say the least.

"I couldn't," Merlin uttered.

"He'll never know you were gone," Freya said.

"We'll never tell," Lancelot promised.

"I mean," Merlin stuttered, "if I got caught..."

Lancelot put an arm around Merlin's shoulders, but he ducked under them and crossed the room. "Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission."

"He might see me."

"You could wear a disguise," Will suggested. "Just this once. What Uther doesn't know won't hurt you!"

Freya took Merlin's hand and looked meaningfully up into his frightened but hopeful eyes. "Nobody wants to stay cooped up here forever," she said.

Merlin gaped at her for a long moment. Then his face softened, and a smile crept across it. "You're right! I'll go."

Freya clapped her hands happily as Will and Lancelot behind them cheered.

"I'll get cleaned up," Merlin announced, crossing the room to his water basin, snatching up a towel along the way.

The trio cheered again.

"I'll stroll down those stairs," Merlin said determinedly.

Another cheer.

Finished washing his face, Merlin strode to the door that led to the stairs, back straight and chin up. "I'll march through the doors and -"

He was cut short as he reached the door by the sudden appearance of the regal Uther, who merely raised an eyebrow. Merlin stumbled back, swallowing his heart. Lancelot, Freya, and Will had disappeared into thin air.

"Good morning, Merlin," Uther greeted coldly.

"Ah," Merlin stuttered softly, lowering his eyes. "Um, good...morning, Master."

Uther surreptitiously cast his gaze around the room. "Dear boy, whomever were you talking to?"

"My...friends."

"I see." Uther swept into the room, tapping Merlin's head as he passed. "And what are your friends made of, Merlin?"

"Nothing," Merlin said sadly.

"Can nothing talk?"

"No," Merlin answered. "It cannot."

"That's right," Uther smiled condescendingly. "You're a smart lad. Now...lunch."

Upon hearing the word, Merlin jumped into motion and hurried to a shelf against the wall, collecting several dishwares and carrying them back to a small, round table. He set down a silver platter and goblet for the king, and then a chipped wooden cup and plate for himself. Uther sat down on the padded chair, placing a covered wicker basket on the table. Merlin took out the meal, serving the finely cut meats and breads for Uther, and then the dried ones for himself before taking his seat on the rickety stool.

"Shall we review your alphabet today?" Uther asked, smiling tightly.

Merlin nodded eagerly, glad that the king appeared to be in a good mood. "Yes, Master. I would like that very much."

"Very well," he drawled. "A."

"Abomination," Merlin answered quickly, hoping to please.

"B?"

"Bastard."

"C?"

"C-c-c-c-contrition," Merlin stumbled.

"D."

"Damnation."

"E?"

"Eternal damnation!"

"Good," Uther nodded. "F."

Merlin set about breaking his bread, happy at the acknowledgement that he so rarely received. "Festival," he said. As soon as it left his mouth, he gasped and dropped his lunch to slap his hands over his big mouth.

Uther spluttered, and then dabbed his chin with his napkin, glaring angrily. "Excuse me?"

"Forgiveness!" Merlin cried, backpedaling desperately.

"You said...festival."

"No!"

Uther stood slowly, and Merlin shrank down in his seat. "You are thinking of going to the festival."

Realizing that it was no use lying, Merlin's shoulders slumped. "It's just that...you go every year."

"I am the king," Uther said sharply. "A public figurehead. I must go! But I don't enjoy a moment." His lips curled in a scornful snarl. "Thieves and hustlers and the dregs of humankind, all mixed together in a shallow, drunken stupor."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Master," Merlin said in a small voice.

Uther sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself. When he opened them again, Merlin was relieved to find the anger gone. "Merlin," he said tiredly, "can't you understand? When your heartless mother abandoned you as a child, anyone else would have drowned you. And this is my thanks for taking you in and raising you as my son?"

Merlin's mouth opened and closed, tongue scrambling for words as his eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Sire," he choked out.

The king sighed again and beckoned for Merlin to follow him out onto the balcony. Merlin hurried after him, unwilling to displease him again. "Oh, my dear Merlin," he said. "You don't know what it's like out there. I do...I do."

They stopped together, and Uther swept his arm to gesture to the city as a whole. "The world is cruel. The world is wicked. It's I alone whom you can trust in this whole city."

Merlin gazed at Uther with wide eyes, unable to comprehend that the jovial people he had spent his years watching were bad.

"I am your only friend," Uther continued. "I who keep you, teach you, dress you. I who look upon you without fear, Merlin. How can I protect you unless you stay in here always?"

Merlin didn't seem to have an answer, and looked a little confused.

"You are twisted," Uther said sternly.

"I am twisted," Merlin repeated softly. This was his least favorite lesson of all.

"And you are evil."

"I am evil."

"These are crimes," he said, "for which the world shows little pity. You don't understand, Merlin. Out there, those people will revile you as a monster."

"I am a monster," Merlin said, chest aching. He wished someone would come and make him human. He knew his master was only trying to protect him by making sure he knew these things about himself, but sometimes it felt as though Uther hated him, too.

"Why would you want that? Just stay in here, and they'll never hurt you. Remain in here, Merlin, be faithful to me."

"I am faithful," Merlin gasped out.

"Be grateful to me."

"I'm grateful."

"Do as I say, and stay in here."

"I'll stay in here," Merlin promised.

Uther nodded grimly and turned to leave, while Merlin didn't move. He scarcely could breathe. As the king passed the threshold, Merlin called out.

"You are good to me, Master," he said, and Uther paused to listen. "I am sorry."

He turned back. "You are forgiven," he said. "But remember, Merlin: this is your sanctuary." The king gestured to the bell tower, jeweled rings flashing in the sunlight.

"Sanctuary," Merlin repeated.

Uther left, boots tapping on the steps as he descended. After a moment, Merlin was no longer able to hear him.

Merlin turned back to the courtyard, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. How he wished for only one day to spend with them. Just one day, just to see what it was like, just to talk with someone. Merlin wished he weren't a monster. If he could just be normal, then he could walk around with them, have real friends that he could touch.

Merlin wanted to run downstairs and throw himself into Gaius' arms like he did when he was a child. But he couldn't. He was not allowed, even though Gaius always welcomed him and treated him kindly. But Uther disliked Gaius, so Merlin could no longer see him.

The young man rested his chin on his hands as he watched the people below, no longer able to stem his tears.

* * *

Down in the bustling streets, a well-built blonde man in armor was walking, his chestnut horse, George, trailing obediently behind him. The man, Arthur, turned the map several ways as he scrutinized it, then looked up at his surroundings before shaking his head indignantly.

"Huh," he said aloud. "You leave town for a couple of years and they change everything."

George nickered quietly, and Arthur took the reigns to lead him along, tucking the map into his belt. He spotted a pair of knights walking nearby.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said good-naturedly as he approached them. "I'm looking for the Palace of Justice. Would you -"

As the men walked past him, completely ignoring him, Arthur's good demeanor fell flat.

"Hmm," he muttered. "I suppose not."

He turned his head to glare at their backs, contemplating how he would find his destination, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a flurry of colorful movement. In a corner made by the conjoining of a wall and a building, a young tan-skinned woman was dancing whilst playing a tambourine. Her long dark curls framed her beautiful face with chocolate eyes, and swung nearly as much as her hips did underneath her swishing purple skirts. Prancing around her feet was a dainty white goat with shocking green eyes and black, floppy ears.

Arthur gaped at her for a moment.

A mother and her young daughter walked by, momentarily obscuring his view. It prompted him to move closer.

"Stay away, child," the mother barked, grasping her daughter's arm and yanking her along when she stopped. "They're Druids. They'll curse you!"

Arthur, entranced by the girl's dancing, dropped a few gold coins in the hat on the ground. It wasn't full, as many citizens of Camelot were particularly biased against the Druids and their misunderstood magic. He stepped back to continue watching the show, momentarily forgetting that he was soon due somewhere.

A small boy with startling blue eyes and dark locks appeared at the top of the wall. Though he had said nothing and made no noise, he looked meaningfully at the dancing girl, who stopped and turned to him. They communed through their eyes, it seemed, because at once he disappeared behind the fence and the girl began to gather up her things.

As the goat picked up the hat in its teeth, the change spilled, and the girl abruptly knelt to gather the coins. She moved quickly.

But not quickly enough.

"All right, Druid," said one guard gruffly. His shadow falling over her crouched figure made her pause and look up. "Where'd you get the money?"

"For your information," she replied curtly, standing, "I earned it."

The knights guffawed. "Druids don't earn money," chuckled the first one, though with a menacing undertone.

"You steal it?" asked the other, placing his hand on his sword hilt.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the confrontation. Harassing an innocent, unarmed woman, Druid or not, was in no chivalry codes as far as he was concerned. But he refrained from stepping in, as he wanted to see what the Druid girl would do. Perhaps he was simply waiting to see if she would use magic.

"You'd know a lot about stealing!" the girl retorted, standing her ground. The goat bleated loudly as though to agree.

"Troublemaker!" smirked the first knight.

The second stepped forward to grab her. "Maybe a day in the stocks will cool you down."

The girl backed up against the wall, looking between the two men warily. "Morgana!" she uttered. Hearing its name, the goat lowered its head and leapt forward, butting the second knight hard between the legs.

He squealed like a stuck pig, treading on his partner's feet as he fell back, clutching his crotch. The Druid girl and her goat seized the moment and ran, shouldering past Arthur as he watched her go in both surprise and amusement. He had expected her to use magic, not her pet. Although it seemed to have worked just as well.

The knights scrambled to their feet, shouting curses, and gave chase. Arthur feigned ignorance and tugged George ahead a few quick steps, blocking their path and causing them to lose sight of their adversary.

"Oh, dear," Arthur said. "I'm sorry. Were you looking for someone?"

"Why, you," fumed the knights, turning their frustration on him. "Peasant!"

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "Peasant?" he repeated incredulously. Did they not see the brilliantly shining armor that encased his beautiful form?

The first knight yanked a small dagger from his belt, brandishing it toward Arthur to scare him. Arthur merely grinned ferally and unsheathed the polished longsword from George's saddle. The men blanched.

"You were saying...?" Arthur drawled.

Both knights finally appeared to recognize him for who he was.

"Oh! Sir, at your service, Sir!"

Arthur smiled tightly and sheathed his sword. "I know you have a lot on your mind right now, but...the Palace of Justice?"

"Of course, Sir!" squeaked the knight who had been victimized by a ruthless goat. "Right this way, Sir!"

The senior knight smiled indulgently at the idiots who immediately began to clear a path through the crowd so that they could maneuver through it. He patted George's neck, trusting the loyal steed to follow him without having to lead him by the reigns. They passed a huddled figure against a crumbling wall.

It was an old man, if the white beard was any indication. Arthur was unable to see his face because of a faded old blanket wrapped tightly over his head and shoulders. In front of him was a dented tin cup about halfway full of alms.

Arthur paused, digging into his pocket. He dropped an entire handful of gold coins into the cup, careful not to spill it. He nodded respectfully to him and continued on his way.

Once he walked by, the old man stirred, reaching up to remove the blanket. Morgana the goat dismounted the Druid girl's head, watching after the kind knight. She smiled, touched by his actions. It had not escaped her notice that he was the reason she'd managed to get away, either. Perhaps there were good people in Camelot, after all.

* * *

Though Arthur had heard that Uther was an iron-fisted ruler, he was admittedly a little surprised when he was directed to find the king in the dungeons. When he arrived in the dark, chilly corridor located rather high up, he first spotted the king standing outside of a room. It was quite clear to Arthur that the tortured screams were coming from there.

"Guard!" he snapped suddenly.

"Sire?" came an echoed reply.

"Ease up," he ordered.

Arthur felt a tad bit of relief that the man's ordeal was finished. He didn't know what crime the prisoner had committed, but he very much disliked torture for any reason. Arthur picked up the pace slightly so that he would reach him more quickly.

Uther continued speaking. "Wait between lashes. Otherwise the older sting will dull into the new."

Arthur's heart fell at those words, but he carefully schooled his expression to mask his discomfort and empathy.

"Yes, Sire."

The man's screaming began anew.

Uther turned and spotted Arthur just as he reached him. "Ah, so this is the gallant Sir Arthur, home from the wars."

"Reporting for duty, as ordered, Sire," Arthur replied, standing ramrod straight.

The king smiled. "Your service record precedes you, Arthur. I expect nothing but the best from a war hero of your caliber."

"And you shall have it, Sire. I guarantee it."

"Yes," Uther nodded, obviously pleased. "You know, my last senior knight was, um, a bit of a disappointment to me."

A whip cracked, eliciting an agonized scream that echoed hauntingly. Luckily for Arthur, Uther had turned, missing the involuntary startle the knight had given.

"Well, no matter," Uther said. "I'm sure that you'll whip my men into shape."

"Uh, thank you, Sire," Arthur cleared his throat, a bit hesitant due to the king's word choice. It must have been on purpose, though, because the king smirked. "Uh, very, uh, trem - uh, a tremendous honor, Sire."

King Uther suddenly sobered and motioned for Arthur to follow him upstairs. "You come to Camelot in her darkest hour, Sir. It will take a firm hand to save the weak-minded from becoming so easily misled."

"Misled, Sire?"

They stepped out onto an open walkway. Across the city they could see the Camelot church, bells tolling the midday hour.

"Look, Sir," Uther pointed below, "Druids."

A merry group of people were laughing and dancing, inviting other passersby to join them. One of the men was clearly drunk, and exceedingly loud. So much so that the others had to intervene when he tried to solicit a kiss from a lady. "Gwaine - no!"

Uther's lip curled in disgust. "The Druids live outside the normal order. Their heathen ways inflame the people's lowest instincts - awakens evil - and they must be stopped."

Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I was summoned from the wars to capture fortune tellers and palm readers?"

The king chuckled wryly. "Oh, the real war, Sir, is what you see before you. For twenty years, I have been taking care of the Druids, one...by...one."

With the last three words, Uther mercilessly crushed a scurrying ant on the balcony. Arthur watched, slightly perturbed. The king suddenly flipped the stone tile over, revealing a multitude of ants, which panicked and ran in each direction at the invasion.

"And yet," Uther growled, "for all my success, they have thrived. I believe they have a safe haven, within the walls of this very city. A nest, if you will. They call it the Crystal Cave."

Carefully choosing his words, Arthur asked, "And what are we going to do about it, Sire?"

With a nasty grin, Uther slammed the tile back down, grinding it a few times for good measure. Arthur felt rather numb, and perhaps a bit sorry for the crushed ants.

"You make your point quite vividly, Sire," he said.

"You know," Uther smiled, dusting his hands, "I like you, Sir. Shall we?" He turned to leave, but stopped abruptly when the crowd below began to cheer loudly. "Oh, duty calls. Have you ever attended a peasant festival, Sir?"

"Not recently, Sir," Arthur negated.

"Then this should be quite an education for you, Sir. Come along."

* * *

With all the drinking and shouting going on, no one noticed a slim, cloaked figure scaling down the side of the cathedral. Halfway down he realized that he'd sorely misjudged the length of rope he'd need, and looked up.

"I need more!" he hissed.

Will leaned back out of sight, presumably to relay the request, and after a moment reappeared. He shrugged. "There is no more!"

"Agh," Merlin groaned. "Okay, I'm coming back up!"

He made to pull himself up, but then realized he didn't have the upper body strength, and was now stranded. Merlin looked down, wondering if he could drop safely. Not a chance, considering he was more than thirty feet up.

"Will!" he hissed again. "Go get Gaius!"

"Gaius can't see me, you dollop-head!"

"Aaagh."

"Use your magic!"

"No!"

"Use it!" Will waved his arms in a flighty gesture, giving Merlin a pointed look.

Merlin shook his head, still clinging for dear life. "I can't believe you all talked me into this! Clotpoles!"

Freya and Lancelot appeared at the balcony on either side of Will. "Use your magic!" they insisted.

"It's forbidden except to ring the bells," Merlin protested.

"Use it!" Lancelot said.

"Hurry," Freya urged, "before someone sees you!"

At last Merlin gave in, looking around. No one seemed to have noticed him yet. With a sigh, he allowed the familiar buzzing beneath his skin to escape. The soothing heat in his eyes meant that they were glowing gold, something he had quickly learned to fear in others' presences.

Turning his ankles so that his toes pointed toward one of the statues, Merlin propelled himself sideways, latching onto a fold in the holy man's stone robes. He released the rope, then sent it coiling upwards into the bell tower so that he could put it away later.

Using magic to ensure his balance and agility, Merlin clambered down the statue, occasionally pausing to secure his cloak. He couldn't afford to let anyone see him, to learn his identity. Uther would kill him.

A group of Druids had banded together on a platform in the center of the courtyard, singing loudly and jovially. It drew people's attention, including Merlin's. He turned to listen and watch, legs wrapped around a lamp pole to which he had jumped from his perch on the statue's huge foot.

The performers encouraged people to dance and sing along, and though most people didn't know the words, it didn't stop them from adding their own lyrics. Grinning happily at the display, Merlin slid down the pole and was swallowed up by the crowd.

Completely unused to being jostled around by people, Merlin found himself overwhelmed. The smells, the touches, the sounds, were all a bit too much for him. He struggled to get out of the crowd, almost panicking as he realized he needed air.

Just as he made it to the edge of the fray, someone bumped into him and sent him sprawling head first into a bright tent. He crashed to the floor, sending clothes and furniture flying. A dressing screen was knocked over, much to the consternation of a girl, who yelped in shock and quickly covered herself.

"Hey!" she said, initially offended. But when she saw that the young man was pulling down the hood of his cloak to block everything out and looked rather embarrassed as he struggled to disentangle himself and get to his feet, she softened. "Are you all right?"

"I didn't mean to," he stammered out. "I'm sorry!"

"You're not hurt, are you?" she asked, kneeling beside him. "Here, let's see."

"No, no, no!" Merlin said frantically, trying to push her hands back.

Unsuccessful at stopping her, he froze and waited for his doom as the Druid girl pulled back his hood. Her chocolate brown eyes studied his face, and then she smiled, much to Merlin's shock.

"There," she said kindly. "See, no harm done. Just try to be a little more careful."

"I-I-I will," Merlin stuttered weakly, quickly stumbling to his feet and running outside. He flung himself headlong into the thick crowd, now glad for it because it would hide him.

* * *

As King Uther and Sir Arthur arrived at the festival, accompanied by several lesser knights, a Druid jumped up on stage. Uther entered a small pavilion and sat on a small throne, already bored. Arthur sat atop his horse at the king's side, observing his surroundings.

"Come one!" said the Druid grandly, spreading his arms invitingly. "Come all! Hurry, hurry, here's your chance! See the mystery and romance!

"Come one! Come all! See the finest girl in Albion make an entrance to entrance! Dance, Guinevere...Dance!" With that, the Druid's eyes flashed gold and he disappeared into a cloud of brilliant smoke, which quickly cleared away.

In his place was the Druid girl whom Arthur and Merlin had met, wearing an Arabian-influenced garment. The tassels and beads swung and bounced with her movements, as did her curly hair. The sultry music matched her sweet performance.

Uther's lip curled. "Look at that disgusting display," he said to his new senior knight.

"Yes, Sire," Arthur said enthusiastically, leaning forward.

Guinevere continued to dance, striding along the makeshift boardwalk to Uther's pavilion. From somewhere within her bosom, she pulled out a long, starry handkerchief. The Druid girl wrapped the fabric around Uther's neck, using it to pull him close. The cold fury in his expression and his stiff posture did nothing to deter her.

Still dancing seductively, Guinevere leaned close to kiss him, but then twirled away at the last second, leaving Uther with the handkerchief around his head, concealing his face. Uther angrily yanked the cloth off, but she was already gone.

The Druid who had announced Guinevere's dance was once more front and center. "And now, ladies and gentlemen," he called, "the piece de resistance!"

The eager crowd, if at all possible, gathered even more closely to the podium.

"Here it is, the moment you've been waiting for! Here it is, you know exactly what's in store! Now's the time we laugh until our sides get sore! Now's the time we crown the king of fools!"

The citizens cheered wildly.

The Druid grinned at the response. "You all remember last year's king?"

A drunken man was lifted on the shoulders of several Druids, calling for another tankard. His overall scruffy appearance made Gwaine the perfect candidate every year.

"So come on up, contestants!"

The Druid bent down and began helping those who were too drunk to help themselves get onto the platform. He continued to shout encouragements for more people to come up. Guinevere reappeared, wearing her normal purple dress, and helped as well. Spotting a familiar face, she smiled and reached out invitingly.

The laughing crowd abruptly stopped when he was pulled up, hood down. Then, as though someone had cued them, the citizens gasped in alarm and fear, murmuring amongst themselves.

"It's the sorcerer," cried one frightened voice, "from the bell tower!"

"The sorcerer!"

"Sorcerer?!"

"Why is he -"

"Who let him -"

"Sorcerer!"

Merlin, devastated to realize that they were afraid of him, shrank back. Guinevere tightened her hold on his arm, though, utterly confused by their reactions. Uther had stood from his seat, seething at the sight of his ward.

Before the crowd got too out of control, the male Druid on the stage leapt forward. "Wait!" he cried. "Ladies and gentlemen, don't panic! We asked for the scariest face in Camelot, and here he is!" He gestured grandly to Merlin, who barely concealed a flinch. "Merlin, the Sorcerer of Camelot!"

All at once, as though by magic, the crowd's mood improved. The festive people cheered and catcalled, whistled and toasted. Merlin was confused at the sudden change, but as it was a good one he allowed himself a tentative smile.

Guinevere disappeared from his side as Geoffrey of Monmouth, the Druid who had led the activities, placed a silly crown over his dark locks.

"Hail to the king!" he bellowed, leaping aside with a flourish.

The crowd cheered wildly, and Merlin felt dizzy with excitement, emotion swelling in his breast. Uther was wrong! The people loved him. They were even chanting his name! He had been crowned the King of Fools! Merlin, the supposed evil spawn of Druid, was loved!

To the side, two knights did not approve of the festivities.

"Watch this," said one to his partner, smirking and winding his arm back.

A tomato hit Merlin square in the face, splattering. Stunned, Merlin looked down to the ruined vegetable at his feet. The crowd went silent once more, but only for a split second.

Laughter erupted.

"Hail to the king!" howled a mocking voice.

Suddenly, Merlin found himself being pelted with produce of all kinds, including boiled potatoes. He raised his arms defensively, mind reeling. Why were they doing this? Never in all his years of watching them had they done such a thing!

Uther was right.

Merlin tried to jump down from the stage, hoping to avoid any more humiliation and foodstuffs. But they weren't finished. Before he could escape, he found himself being lassoed like livestock, pinned down to the platform. The fruits and vegetables continued to rain down on Merlin, who searched the crowd for a kind face, for someone who might stop his torment. He was horribly afraid that they would run out of food and start hitting him with rocks.

He spotted Uther.

"Master!" he called. "Master, please! Help me!"

Uther merely glared at him from his distance. Finally, Arthur had had enough.

"Sire," he said, "request permission to stop this cruelty."

"In a moment, Sir," Uther replied coolly. "A lesson needs to be learned here."

Just as the words left his mouth, the crowd, for a third time, fell silent. Arthur abandoned his incredulous and disgusted gape at the king to see what had caused the diversion, and Uther's look of contempt intensified.

Guinevere was slowly ascending the steps that led up to the platform, wide eyes locked on the pitiful form of Merlin, who had begun to weep when Uther did nothing. His blue eyes looked pleadingly at her as she knelt beside him, soiling her dress with juice.

"Don't be afraid," she said softly when he shied away, voice wavering with the same emotion that swam in her eyes. "I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen."

Uther growled. "You! Druid girl!" he barked. "Get down at once!"

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, but made no move otherwise. Her face hardened as her eyes met his. "Yes, Your Highness," she called back bitterly. "Just as soon as I free this poor person."

"I forbid it!"

Lifting the hem of her skirt, Guinevere pulled out a small knife from her boot. She swiftly cut the ropes that bound Merlin to the podium, then stood and turned to Uther.

He bared his teeth. "How dare you defy me!"

"You mistreat this poor boy the same way you mistreat my people!" she said, full of conviction. "You speak of justice, yet you are cruel to those who most need your help!"

"Silence!" the king yelled, spittle flying from his lips.

"Justice!" retorted the Druid girl, pointing her knife skyward.

Uther, breathing heavily, clenched his fists. "Mark my words, Druid. You will pay for this insolence."

"Then it appears we've crowned the wrong fool," she replied calmly, tucking the knife back into her boot. "The only fool I see is you!"

"Sir Arthur!" Uther barked. "Arrest her."

Though disheartened by the order, Arthur motioned the knights forward. They moved into position, surrounding the stage.

At once Guinevere began to cry, looking horribly frightened. Arthur cringed inwardly, regretting that she would likely be imprisoned. But as she reached for another handkerchief in her bosom, he noticed something change about her - her eyes. But before his mind could completely register it, Guinevere buried her face in the new cloth.

And promptly disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The crowd gasped, and the knights groaned.

Magic.

Uther shouted in frustration, kicking his throne off of its pedestal. Arthur turned to him to await the orders he knew was coming. "Find her, Sir Arthur! I want her alive!"

"Yes, Sire," he responded, already turning to the knights. "Seal off the area, men. Find the Druid girl, and do not harm her!"

Arthur and the knights quickly dispersed. The girl could be anywhere, but was likely somewhere nearby. After all, it took powerful magic to transport, and she didn't seem to possess much. Guinevere would probably be tired after that theatrical disappearance.

Uther approached Merlin, who hadn't moved except to shrug off the remainder of the ropes. The crowd had slowly moved away, noticing the dark clouds that were moving in quickly. Merlin hung his head low, ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered brokenly. "I will never disobey you again."

When Uther said nothing, Merlin slowly lowered himself from the stage and trudged across the courtyard to the church, disgusted with himself. As he reached the steps, the rain began to fall. Merlin looked back to see Uther watching him coldly, then averted his gaze and shut the door to his freedom.


	3. Sanctuary & Hellfire

Chapter 2 - Sanctuary & Hellfire

[One Day Later]

Arthur was exhausted. The search for the Druid Guinevere had lasted throughout the night with no signs of her. As the senior knight, Arthur had stayed to oversee and direct the search parties, renewing their orders each time they reported back empty-handed.

Now that it was well into the afternoon, Arthur felt just about ready to drop dead. But he was disciplined enough to bear through it. He was far too used to pushing his limits since he had been away in foreign lands, leading the wars.

Oh, what he was reduced to.

He certainly didn't agree with Uther's ways, but what choice did he have but to follow orders?

The knight was broken out of his silent lamentations as a pair of soldiers appeared. Just as he expected, they had not found the girl. Before he could take out his frustration on them, he sent them to search the sewer. Okay, maybe he did take out a little anger on them, but the sewers needed to be searched anyway. Arthur wasn't going to do it.

As he watched them go, a familiar figure caught his eye.

It was the old man to whom he had donated generously on the day of his arrival. Hunched over in his blanket, the man was hobbling slowly up the steps of the cathedral. As per the law, they had not been allowed to search there, but Arthur doubted the Druid would take sanctuary unless she had to.

Arthur smiled softly as he noted that the man had a new blanket. Though it wasn't new, it was definitely better than the last one. He thought to catch up with him and give him a bit more out of his pocket. He didn't really know why. Something about this old man just struck him as -

The "old man," upon reaching the doors of the Camelot Palace, turned to look back. A tan face with cautious chocolate eyes appeared underneath a white goat, then quickly ducked into the church.

Sir Arthur frowned thoughtfully, then pressed his lips into a thin line and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course. What a clever Druid.

He shook himself, glancing around surreptitiously. He motioned to a nearby officer, then told him that he was in charge until further notice. The knight agreed, taking his place on the platform. The rain had washed away the remainders of the boy's humiliation.

Arthur quickly made his way to the church, hoping to catch the Druid. Only, to speak with her, mind, because he could not legally arrest her while she was inside. He spotted her instantly.

Guinevere had apparently never set foot in the church before then, seeing how she was standing stock still a few yards into the huge entrance chamber, looking around in awe at the architecture. Arthur glanced up as well, but he had been inside many churches due to his religion and was no longer impressed by the familiar sight.

The knight cleared his throat as he approached, and the Druid whipped around in surprise.

"What do you want?" she asked, her harsh voice echoing slightly.

"A man can't come to church and pray to his saint?" Arthur replied lightly.

Guinevere hesitated, obviously weighing whether he was telling the truth. Arthur smiled and pointed behind her toward a statue of a serene-faced warrior, hand clasped around the hilt of the sword at his hip.

"The patron Saint of knights," Arthur said. "Gorlois."

"Oh," she uttered, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "Um, I'm sorry. I don't...I'm not...I just -"

"You're hiding," Arthur finished for her. "It's as good a place as any. No one can touch you here. The church is open to anyone who needs help, you know."

"Yes," Guinevere answered thoughtfully.

"Do you mind?" Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh!" The girl flushed again, moving aside so that he could pass. "Of course, sorry."

Arthur flashed her a grin and ambled up to Saint Gorlois, making a small show of bowing his head and clasping his hands. He could feel Guinevere watching him, though he knew she was trying hard not to. But he really did pray to the holy man; he probably needed it.

After a moment he raised his head and turned back. Guinevere quickly averted her gaze so as not to get caught staring.

"Where's your goat?"

Guinevere looked up at him in surprise. "Morgana? Oh, she's probably gone off looking for some food. Always hungry, that Morgana."

"I see...Er, I'm Arthur. It means 'strong as a bear'."

She cocked her head at him curiously. "You're not at all like the other knights."

"Thank you," Arthur said sincerely. "Er, my name's Arthur," he repeated meaningfully. "It means 'strong as a bear'."

Her cheeks blossomed even redder than before. "Guinevere. It, um, means 'phantom'."

"That's a beautiful name," Arthur replied. "Fitting, I think, the way you disappeared like that. Much better than Arthur, at any rate."

They smiled at one another, each admiring the other's eyes. Neither noticed the approach of Uther and several knights.

"Good work, Sir Arthur!" Uther said, pleased. "Now, arrest her."

Arthur, with his back to the king, scowled. Guinevere's shock was quickly replaced by fury. "You tricked me!" she accused him.

"Claim sanctuary," he whispered through clenched teeth.

Guinevere only gave him a disgusted look.

"Say it!" he hissed.

"I'm waiting, Sir Arthur."

Arthur spun around, straightening and clasping his hands behind his back. "She claimed sanctuary, Sire. I am sorry. There is nothing I can do."

Uther's expression hardened. "Then drag her outside and -"

"Uther!" shouted a familiar voice. They turned to the old physician as he entered, a dusty tome in his hands. Though he looked much older than he had twenty years ago, the anger towards Uther's misdeeds were read very clearly. "You will not touch her!"

Uther glared at the man with wide eyes.

Gaius turned to Guinevere, his eyes portraying kindness. "Don't worry. King Uther learned years ago to respect the sanctity of the church." He turned meaningfully back to Uther, whose lip curled at him.

"If you'll excuse me," Gaius said, moving along. He shot one last warning look at the king.

Uther and the knights begrudgingly turned to leave, and the king beckoned his senior knight to come. Arthur followed without glancing back at Guinevere, who watched them leave with both relief and satisfaction.

She thought to run after the old physician to thank him and ask his advice, but a strong grip on her arm startled her. Guinevere turned back, only to meet the sneer of Uther. He twisted her arm behind her back, causing her to cry out. A hand clamped over her mouth halted any cry for help.

"You think you have outwitted me," he whispered into her ear. "But I am a patient man, and Druids don't do well inside stone walls."

He paused, breathing deeply as he buried his nose in her hair, much to her disgust.

She managed to twist her mouth out of his grip. "What are you doing?" she demanded, still struggling.

"I was just imagining a rope around that beautiful neck," he said huskily, caressing her smooth skin.

"I know what you were imagining," she retorted, suppressing a shudder. Guinevere finally managed to escape his grasp, spinning around to face him and taking several large steps back.

Uther smirked wryly. "Such a clever little witch. So typical of your kind, to twist the truth to cloud the mind with unholy thoughts. Well, no matter." The king turned to leave at last, casting a thoughtful gaze around the candlelit chamber as he walked. "You've chosen a magnificent prison, but it is a prison nonetheless. Set one foot outside, and you're mine!"

With a final snake-like glare, Uther slammed the door to her freedom.

Guinevere, spotting a door on the opposite side of the room, hurried over to it, picking up her skirts so she didn't trip. She pulled the door open, intending to run, but was stopped short at the sight of a squadron of armored knights.

Before she could close it again, she caught the words, "Uther's orders! Post a guard at every door!"

Morgana suddenly bounded back to her, tiny hooves clicking loudly on the floor. In her mouth was a chewed-up lace doily.

"One thing, Morgana," Guinevere said, kneeling absently to take it away and pat her, "if Uther thinks he can keep us here, he's wrong."

"Don't act rashly, child," Gaius said, appearing. Guinevere stood as he approached.

"Oh, is this yours?" she asked sheepishly, holding up the ruined doily. "I'll repair it, sorry."

Gaius smiled. "Your friend can keep it, since she's taken such a liking to it." But then he sobered. "You caused quite a stir at the festival, young lady. It would be unwise to arouse Uther's anger further."

"You saw what he did out there," Guinevere protested, "letting the crowd torture that poor boy. I just thought that if one person could stand up to him, then..."

Gaius' sad smile returned. "Well, thank you for helping him. Merlin thinks very highly of you, I'm sure."

"Merlin?" she repeated. "You know him?"

"Yes," he replied. "I raised him - or tried to, at least. Uther practically owns the boy, and keeps him locked away in the bell tower."

Guinevere looked aghast. "But why?"

"Come with me," Gaius said.

He led her deeper into the church, passing all manners of saints and alters. Several people were kneeling to pray, and she consciously tried to walk silently. She didn't understand the religion, so she most definitely didn't want to interrupt in any way. When Morgana attempted to go after the flowers a patron had brought, Guinevere quickly scooped her up and hurried away, horribly embarrassed even though no one saw.

At last they reached the end of the huge chamber, stopping before a new-looking, larger than life statue. It was a kindly looking woman with long wavy hair. Her gown bulged in the front, and her hands were wrapped lovingly around it. The saint's chin was tucked down toward her full bosom, indicating that she was looking at her protruding belly.

"She's beautiful," Guinevere whispered.

"Yes," Gaius agreed. "This is Ygraine Pendragon, the late wife of Uther and patron Saint of pregnancy."

Guinevere gaped. "What happened to her? Was she a Druid? Did Uther kill her?"

"No, not at all. Uther loved her with all his heart. They were expecting their first child together," Gaius said. "But in her last month of pregnancy, Ygraine caught ill and died, taking her child along with her. Uther was devastated."

"And that's why he's evil?" Guinevere deduced. "But why persecute my people?"

Gaius gave her a sorrowful look. "Before her death, Uther turned away from our religion and went to the Druids for help. He believed that with their magic they would be able to save her and the baby, but it was not to be. He blames their lack of success, and punishes your kind."

Suddenly Guinevere pitied the king. "Oh," was all she could seem to say. She turned her gaze up to Ygraine. Her hand reached up as though to touch Ygraine's belly, but she hesitated.

Gaius smiled. "Go on. Ygraine is kind to all those who seek her comfort, just as all saints are."

Guinevere returned his smile tentatively and touched it. The stone was cold and smooth beneath her fingertips, but a strange warmth seemed to emanate nonetheless. "I wonder what she would have named it," she murmured.

"Catherine," Gaius said, "if it were a girl. Uther, however, was hoping for a son. He wanted to name him Arthur."

The Druid's head snapped toward the old man, eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Well," Gaius said, "I must be going. Please feel free to wander about, but do try to stay out of trouble."

"Of course," she answered gratefully. "Thank you."

She watched his receding posterior until he had gone, then turned back to Ygraine.

"I don't know if you can hear me," she said softly, hopefully, clasping her hands in front of her as she had seen Arthur do. "I know I'm just a Druid, and that I shouldn't be asking for your help, but Gaius said...I mean..."

She bit her lip, trailing off uncertainly. But she shook her head and tried once more.

"I know you're the patron Saint of pregnancy, but you and Gorlois are the only two saints I know. I'm not sure how this works, but...I was hoping that perhaps you could help me. Well, not only me, but my people.

"There are so many of us, but it is difficult here. We must always hide what we can do, run when Uther's guards come. Many of us have perished under his rule. I can get by because of my beauty, I suppose, but there are many who are so less fortunate than I."

Guinevere took a shuddering breath before continuing, "That boy yesterday, Merlin. Please protect him as well. I don't know him, but he was treated just as cruelly as my own people. He needs you.

"I thought we were all citizens of Camelot? Shouldn't we all have the same rights, the same protection as everyone else? Please, Ygraine. You must help us, somehow...Thank you," she finished, quickly wiping her eyes.

Morgana nuzzled her leg lovingly, and Guinevere smiled down at her.

"You!" shouted a sudden voice, startling her. The Druid whipped around, but the nobleman did not appear to be addressing her. "Sorcerer! What are you doing down here?!"

A candelabra was knocked to the floor to her right, clattering loudly on the floor and spilling wax everywhere. Scrambling to set it upright was Merlin, looking flustered and frightened as the man stormed closer, shooing him with a hand as though he were a stray dog.

"Haven't you caused enough trouble already?" the noble demanded.

Finally managing to get the brass stand back into position, Merlin fled to a staircase and disappeared up it. Guinevere pushed past the noble, running after the boy.

"Wait!" she called, lifting her skirts. "I want to talk to you!"

Merlin stumbled at the top of the staircase, but quickly regained his footing and continued without looking back. Unfortunately, Guinevere was just as quick as he and was catching up.

Merlin reached his room and cast his gaze about desperately, looking for an escape. The balcony was out of the question. "Quick!" he whispered at his friends, who stood watching him across the room. "Hide me!"

They all shared a panicked expression, but shrugged when it had yielded no help. Merlin stamped his foot in frustration, and the trio disappeared.

"Here you are!" gasped Guinevere, finally catching up to the bottom landing and looking up at him. "I was afraid I'd lost you."

"Yes," Merlin uttered awkwardly, backing away. "Um, well, I uh, I have chores to do. It was, uh, nice...seeing...you...again. Ohh," he moaned and turned away, fleeing to the balcony.

"No, wait!" Guinevere stretched a hand out to him, but he didn't see. She continued up the last of the stairs. "I'm really sorry about yesterday," she said quickly. "I had no idea who you were. If I had, I never in my life would have pulled...you up...on the stage..."

She trailed off as she reached Merlin's room, catching sight of a stained glass mobile and the diorama of the city. She was in awe of the simplistic beauty. It was nicer than anything she had ever owned.

"What is this place?" Guinevere asked, looking around and noticing a few picture books and pressed flowers.

Merlin peeked around a support structure, watching the girl cautiously. When she seemed genuinely interested, he replied, "This is where I live."

She bent over the carving table, examining the townspeople. "Did you make all these things yourself?"

"Most of them," Merlin admitted, venturing a few steps inside.

Guinevere looked up to study the mobile, the carefully-arranged pieces dangling and reflecting the bright light of the day. She touched a red shard, and it danced playfully. "This is beautiful," she breathed. "If I could do this, you wouldn't find me dancing in the streets for coins."

Merlin looked shocked. "But you're a wonderful dancer."

She smiled wryly at him and said, "Well, it keeps bread on the table, anyway. What's this?"

"Oh no, please," Merlin held his hands out as Guinevere picked up a half-whittled block of wood. "I'm not finished," he rambled, "I-I-I still have to paint them!"

Guinevere smiled, delighted, and said, "The blacksmith and the baker! You're a surprising person, Merlin. Not to mention lucky. All this room to yourself."

"Well," Merlin stuttered, "it's not just me. It's the saints and the birds and the - and of course the bells...Would you like to see them?"

Guinevere's eyes brightened. "Yes, of course! Wouldn't we, Morgana?"

Morgana, who had been clomping around to explore, looked up as she heard her name and trotted back.

Merlin grinned brightly, the first real smile Guinevere had seen on his face. "Follow me," he said. "I'll introduce you."

He led her to a ladder situated against the far wall and expertly clambered up it. Guinevere easily carried Morgana around her shoulders, and Merlin assisted her the last few steps. She looked around in awe at the sheer size and multitude of bronze bells.

"Never knew there were so many," she said.

Merlin grinned and pointed to the nearest, smallest one. "That's Little Sophia. We ring her when there's fire, and...Leon, Elyan, and Percival. They're triplets, you know." He had pointed to three consecutive bells of the same size, placed in a low position between two widely-spaced pillars. "I've never had to ring them, though, because the city has never been attacked. They've been bored."

Guinevere suddenly realized just how lonely Merlin was. He was isolated from society, never allowed to come down, if Gaius was correct. Uther must have allowed the crowd to torment him as a punishment for sneaking out, she was sure. The poor boy had made friends in the bells, naming them and apparently giving them personalities. He was able to sculpt tiny people from useless blocks of wood, so accurate in that he probably spent much of his time people watching. She had no doubt that he played with the pieces as well, seeing as he'd made a figure to represent himself and set it in the courtyard as though to interact with the others.

Her heart ached for him.

She meandered past him and ducked underneath the biggest bell she had ever seen. "And who's this?" she asked, her voice resounding musically within it.

Merlin ducked inside with her, placing a hand on the cool interior. "Kilgharrah," he whispered, voice husky with excitement.

"Kilgharrah," she repeated. "Hullo, Kilgharrah!" she raised her voice, and immediately regretted it because both she and Merlin had to cover their ears.

Merlin chortled. "He's always cranky, but he likes you," he whispered.

"Oh," she giggled.

"Would you like to see more?" he asked, ducking out again.

The Druid girl followed. "How about it, Morgana?"

Hearing her name, Morgana trotted over, hooves clacking loudly and happily.

"We'd love to," Guinevere answered, much to Merlin's delight.

"Good. I've saved the best for last!"

He led her to another ladder, and they came out on a small balcony.

Guinevere stared out at the city, her breath caught in her throat. She stepped forward, hardly aware of Merlin's pleased expression.

The sun had begun to set, splashing vibrant hues over the city. Several thin lines of smoke lazily drifted from chimneys, and the distant river, dyed pinks and oranges and purples, flowed smoothly.

"I bet the king himself doesn't have a view like this!" Guinevere exclaimed. "I could stay up here forever."

"You could, you know," Merlin said, nodding emphatically.

Guinevere's smile faded a bit. "Oh, no, I couldn't."

"Yes," he insisted. "You have sanctuary!"

"But not freedom," she replied sadly, and Merlin's grin slipped. "Druids don't do well inside stone walls."

Merlin frowned thoughtfully. "But you're not like other Druids. They're...evil."

Under her odd and defensive look, Merlin squirmed a little. "Who told you that?" she demanded, already knowing the answer.

"My master," he said, "Uther. He raised me."

Guinevere shook her head. "How could such a cruel man raise someone like you?"

"Cruel?!" Merlin gasped, shaking his head. "No, no! He saved my life. He took me in when no one else would, except for Gaius. I am a monster, you know."

Her anger flared again. "He told you that?"

Merlin shifted uneasily, looking around as though to check that no one was listening. He leaned forward. "I have magic."

Guinevere's brows shot up in surprise. It was no wonder, then, why Uther treated him badly. Merlin was obviously a Druid, but he didn't seem to know it, or at least didn't understand it very well. Uther had truly warped his mind, tricked him and taught him to hate his own very being.

Any pity she had previously felt for the king was ebbing fast.

"Give me your hand," Guinevere demanded.

Merlin looked wary. "Why?"

"Just let me see."

Reluctantly, Merlin extended his hand, and she turned his palm up. She pulled it close and scrutinized it, tracing a few lines with her fingers as though reading it. Merlin watched her curiously, staring hard as though he might understand what she was doing.

"Hmm," Guinevere said, "a long life line...Oh, and this one means you're shy. Hmm. Hmm, hmm, hmm...Well, that's funny."

"What!" Merlin asked nervously.

"I don't see any," she shrugged.

"See any what?" he asked, fidgeting.

"Monster lines," she answered, lifting his hand as though to demonstrate. "Not a single one."

Utter relief spread across Merlin's face, and he gazed at his hand in awe. But then a worried crease appeared. "What about this one?" He shoved his other hand at the Druid, who humored him.

"Hmmm...Nope. None here, either. In fact, this line says you're kind and loving."

Merlin inhaled shakily and stared wonderingly at that hand.

"Now," Guinevere said, drawing his attention by placing her hands in his. "Look at me. Do you think I'm evil?"

"No, no, no!" Merlin shook his head. He looked down at her palms. "You are kind, and good, and - and -"

"And a Druid," she said. "And maybe Uther's wrong about the both of us."

Merlin locked eyes with her, breast swelling with an unfamiliar emotion. Then he clasped her hands in his. "You helped me," he said slowly, thinking hard. "Now I will help you."

Guinevere smiled kindly and shook her head gently. "But there's no way out. There's guards at every door."

"We won't use a door."

"You mean...climb down?" she clarified, feeling a bit queasy.

Merlin nodded eagerly. "You carry Morgana, I carry you."

She looked at him doubtfully. "Oh, Merlin...Okay. Come on, Morgana."

Guinevere knelt and picked up the small goat, hoping that she wouldn't regret this. Merlin beamed at her and securely wrapped an arm around her waist, helping her up onto the railing.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

"Don't be afraid," Merlin whispered.

"I'm not afraid," Guinevere answered.

Merlin blinked in surprise, then flushed. "Oh," he said apologetically. "I was talking to myself."

Before Guinevere could tell him about her sudden change of heart, Merlin leapt forward, dragging her with him. Morgana bleated shrilly, and Guinevere squeezed her tighty.

Their descent was abruptly stopped, and the Druid girl looked up at the young man clutching her. He was gripping the raised hand of a weathered saint, already searching out the next handhold with his molten gold eyes. Guinevere's breath caught, and it had nothing to do with their dizzying height.

Merlin was powerful.

Very powerful.

Then they were falling again, zooming sideways and twisting midair so that Merlin could reach a small protrudence in the architecture. He steadied them by planting his feet against two walls that met at a concave corner, eyes searching again.

As she watched him map out their path down, she realized that he was the one who could change things. If she could convince him to help her - their - people, then they could overthrow Uther the tyrant and make Camelot safe once more. If anyone could do it, it was Merlin.

They dropped again, but this time Merlin didn't seem too concerned about grabbing anything. As they plummeted, Guinevere's stomach followed her thudding heart into her throat. She looked down to see that the ground that had been about two hundred feet below them was coming up fast.

She squeezed her eyes shut, biting back a scream.

For a split second she felt weightless. Then she felt their descent stop, and finally opened her eyes.

"Shh," Merlin whispered, face shadowed.

They were hidden in a small alcove about twenty feet up. Guinevere heard the clomping steps associated with knights, and their rowdy voices as they patrolled. They had never been particularly stealthy.

The knights passed obliviously, but just for good measure, Merlin sent a few barrels rolling away down the alley. The startled guards quickly gave chase, creating an effective diversion.

Merlin, with his new friends still tucked under his arm, clambered down the rest of the way. It was a bit clumsier due to his growing tired.

He set Guinevere down on the cobblestones, then breathed a sigh of relief.

"We did it," he grinned weakly, his eyes returned to the bottle blue color. He frowned a little. "I hope I didn't scare you."

"Not for an instant," Guinevere lied smoothly. She lifted her outer skirt and wrapped a trembling Morgana in it, smiling at Merlin reassuringly.

"I'll never forget you, Guinevere."

"Come with me," she said decidedly.

Merlin jolted in surprise, exhaustion forgotten. "What?!"

"To the Crystal Cave," she said. "Leave this place. You belong with us, Merlin."

As she had spoken, Merlin shook his head. "No, no. I'm never going back out there again. You saw what happened to me. No. The bell tower is where I belong."

Guinevere's shoulders sagged. She knew she wouldn't be able to convince him at the moment, not with how little time they had. "All right," she said. "I'll come to see you."

"What? Here?" he pulled a face. "But the knights, and Uther, and -"

"I'll come after sunset."

"At sunset," Merlin stammered out excuses, "I ring the bells, and then I clean the bells, and then I oil the bells, and then -"

Guinevere reached into her bosom and pulled out a long handkerchief with an interesting design. "All right," she conceded. "Here. If you ever need _sanctuary,_ this will show you the way." The Druid girl handed it to him, and he took it gingerly, as though it were a newborn child.

"But how?" he breathed, studying it.

"Just remember," Guinevere whispered, "when you wear this, you hold the city in your hands."

Morgana suddenly bleated a small warning, and they both heard the guards approaching again.

"Hurry!" Merlin hissed. "You must go!"

Guinevere shot the boy one last grateful look, then turned and fled with Morgana. Merlin ducked back into the alcove as the knights returned, torch splaying orange light. After a moment, they turned the corner and disappeared, and Merlin breathed easily.

He looked down at the handkerchief. He'd never received such a lovely gift before. He would treasure it always. Merlin wrapped the red cloth around his neck, cherishing the feel of it. Feeling invigorated, he let his eyes flash that secret gold once more, bounding back up to his tower easily. Magic made everything so much better! Too bad it was evil...Or was it? Sweet Guinevere didn't seem to think it was.

So who was right and who was wrong?

At last, Merlin stumbled into his room again, yawning. He still had his chores to do before bed, though. He decided to hurry and finish. Using so much magic in a short span of time was really exhausting!

"Hi there."

Merlin started, whipping around at the man's voice. A blonde man - a knight - stood at the landing, regarding him. The young warlock stared at him, dumbstruck.

"I'm looking for the Druid girl. Have you seen her?" Arthur asked cordially.

Fiery anger flared in the pit of Merlin's belly, and he felt the familiar heat in his eyes. Arthur's startled and near-frightened expression was enough to inform Merlin that his magic had appeared again, but for once he did not care. He had to protect Guinevere.

"Whoa, whoa!" Arthur held up his hands in surrender, quickly backtracking as Merlin advanced. "Easy!"

"No knights!" Merlin shouted, clenching his fists.

A loud crack as the wooden rail to Arthur's left splintered slightly.

"Sanctuary!" Merlin fumed. "Get out!"

Arthur stopped on the second landing, looking a bit offended. "Wait!" he snapped, glaring up at Merlin. "All I wanted was to -"

"Go!"

Merlin stamped his foot on the topmost of his steps, eyes glowing fiercely. He really looked quite menacing, so unlike his usually kindly demeanor.

Arthur ignored the order. "I mean her no harm!"

"Go!"

Arthur folded his arms defiantly, sticking his chin out proudly.

The molten gold flickered, and Arthur smirked in satisfaction. His expression quickly turned to horror as Merlin jumped down, landing directly before him, and swung his hand - his hand that was engulfed in fire.

Arthur leapt back, but stumbled. His foot slipped as he missed a step, and he pinwheeled his arms as his body tipped. He was going to take a nasty tumble down the stairs, possibly break open his skull and die. Oh, what he was reduced to.

But an invisible hook behind Arthur's navel stopped his fall short, and then slammed him against the cold stone wall. The hand not covered in fire was outstretched toward him, magically pinning the knight.

Arthur squirmed uncomfortably, trying to get free. When it didn't work, he met the sorcerer's gaze, masking his fear carefully.

"You tell her from me," Arthur said seriously, "I didn't mean to trap her here. It was the only way to save her life. Will you tell her that?"

Merlin said nothing, studying the knight.

"Will you?" the man pressed, even though he was in no position to be making demands.

"If you go," Merlin answered steadily. "Now."

"I'll go."

Suddenly the pressure on his body was released, and Arthur stepped away from the wall. Merlin's fire had also left, leaving behind his blue eyes. Though he still looked wary and untrusting, Arthur could see once more the innocent, frightened boy who had been mistreated at the festival. He nodded curtly and left.

"Oh," Arthur paused. "And one more thing. Tell Guinevere she's very lucky."

"Why?"

He glanced over his armored shoulder. "To have a friend like you."

Merlin frowned thoughtfully, watching Arthur leave. Once he was out of sight and hearing, the young man returned to his room.

"Hey, there he is!" Will cried excitedly, throwing up his hands.

Merlin ignored him.

Lancelot appeared, grinning largely. "You ejected him quite efficiently, Merlin, I must say."

"The nerve of him!" scorned Will. "Coming around here trying to steal your girl."

"My girl?" Merlin repeated, cocking his head.

Freya appeared. "Guinevere, Merlin."

Will whistled suggestively.

Merlin flushed crimson. "Oh, no, no. Guinevere's my friend," he said.

"Oh, come on, Merlin," Freya crooned. "That feeling in your chest? Must be love."

"Yes," Lancelot agreed. "It says so here in this book Gaius gave you."

Merlin shook his head. "But it's a book..."

"So?" Will shrugged.

He shook his head again. "I have to get on with my chores," he sighed tiredly. Merlin rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his friends were gone.

* * *

Across the city of Camelot, in the Palace of Justice, Uther laid awake in his bedroom. At last, unable to sleep, he got up and crossed to the window. It was a starry night, and most of the city was asleep, houses darkened. The barking of dogs could be heard in the distance, but the night was otherwise silent.

Seeing nothing of interest, Uther turned to the wall and approached it slowly, tenderly. The portrait of his late wife, Ygraine, smiled softly back at him. Her blonde hair and kind blue eyes were perfectly captivated by the court painter. Her skin was smooth and flawless, and so lifelike that many a time Uther reached out to touch her, only to meet the rough texture of the canvas.

Uther removed the portrait from its place on the wall and went to sit on the plush red couch before the fireplace. Often he did this when he couldn't sleep, or when his grief began to gnaw at him again. He did not cry, but his heart bled.

He turned from Ygraine's painting to stare listlessly into the dancing flames.

Dancing.

The orange flames kicked and twisted, twirling around and around, much like the Druid girl had. Uther absently reached into his pocket and pulled out a starry handkerchief. It smelled of the Druid girl, smelled of her sweet hair -

Uther shook himself abruptly, dropping the cloth as though it burned and clutching at his wife's portrait. His hands shook, and his breaths came in heaving gasps. Ygraine only watched him kindly, lovingly.

The Druid girl, Guinevere.

It was her fault. Her fault that he was thinking such impure thoughts, imagining her beneath him as he ravaged her sultry form. Wishing she were lying in his bed where Ygraine once was.

Her fault.

A knock at the door broke the king out of his reverie. The door opened without his permission, and a knight entered, looking exceedingly nervous. "King Uther," he said. "The Druid girl has escaped."

"What?" Uther hissed, narrowing his eyes as he stood.

"She's nowhere in the cathedral...She's gone."

"But, how? I...Never mind," he snapped, jerking his arm at him. "Get out, you idiot." The knight quickly retreated. "I'll find her. I'll find her if I have to burn down all of Camelot!"

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

The mantra continued as Uther glared into nothingness. Then his crazed eyes shifted to the painting.

Her fault.

If she hadn't died, then Uther would never have been put in this position. He glared bitterly at the kindness in Ygraine's eyes. It was her fault. She held him back. She silently judged him, mocked him, each and every night as he slept.

She died, and took his unborn son with her, only to spite him.

Well, no more.

Uther stood, the firelight reflecting in his eyes eerily. Then, with a guttural roar, the wayward king brought his knee up and slammed the picture down, snapping the frame in two. Despite this abuse, Ygraine continued to smile lovingly.

It only enraged Uther further.

He threw the portrait, his only memorabilia of his love, into the flames. The fire immediately began to eat away at the blonde hair, the white skin, the pink lips, the blue eyes. As Ygraine slowly turned to ash, Uther watched unwaveringly, lips twisted in a feral snarl. The flames danced, and danced, and danced on Ygraine's pyre.

The flames of Guinevere danced.


	4. The Crystal Cave

Chapter 3 - The Crystal Cave

[The Next Morning]

As the royal carriage approached, Arthur called the men to attention. It rolled to a stop when it reached the knights, the horses snuffling impatiently as the driver opened the door for the king.

"Morning, Sire," greeted Arthur.

Uther moaned in response, squinting his bloodshot eyes as the bright sunlight pierced them, and rubbed his temples with his fingers. His skin was pallid, and dark shadows hung underneath his eyes.

Arthur frowned in concern. "Are you all right?"

Uther dragged a hand down his stubbled cheeks. "I had a little trouble with the...fireplace."

"I see," the senior knight said, though he really didn't. He cleared his throat. "Your orders, Sire?"

The king shot a glare in Arthur's direction, though he didn't entirely focus. "Find the Druid girl."

* * *

The family could only watch helplessly from the corner of the room as the knights tore apart their home. Jars were smashed, furniture was broken, wooden panels from the walls and floor were uprooted. A rug was kicked aside, revealing a trapdoor that led to the cellar.

A knight yanked it open as another stood at the ready, his sword pointed. The huddled Druids stared up fearfully, caught.

Minutes later, the Druids and the harboring family were lined up outside for all to see. Uther paced before them, studying them. None met his fierce gaze, choosing instead to stare at the ground, trembling.

"Ten pieces of silver for the Druid Guinevere," Uther barked, holding out a handful of coins.

None spoke up.

The king growled. "Lock them up!"

* * *

The knights, under Uther's order, pushed the covered carriage into the river. The owner could only watch as his wares sank to the murky bottom. After a moment, several Druids broke the surface, gasping for breath and sputtering.

After being fished out, they, along with the merchant, were lined up. They shivered in the cool air.

Uther once again paced like a caged animal. "Twenty silver pieces for the Druid Guinevere!" He shoved the coins under their noses, jingling the metal in his palm.

Just as before, there were no takers.

"Take them away!" He bellowed at the knights, who quickly obeyed.

Arthur scowled, shaking his head. But there was nothing he could do.

* * *

"We found this Druid talisman," Uther held up a ward and shook it vigorously, "on your property. Have you been harboring fugitives?"

The baker cringed, twisting the hem of his messy apron. "Please, M'lord, have mercy. Our home is always open to the weary traveler." His wife nodded in concurrence, lips pressed tightly together. She held their young daughter close to her.

Uther nodded slowly. "I am placing you and your family under house arrest until I get to the bottom of this," he announced. "If what you say is true, you are innocent and have nothing to fear."

"But we are innocent, I assure you!" cried the baker. "We know nothing of these Druids!"

Without bothering to respond, Uther shooed the family into their house and shut the door. He snatched a knight's staff from him and firmly barred the door with it, gnashing his teeth angrily. Arthur had grown more and more worried and uncomfortable as the day dragged on. Now that sunset was fast closing in, he hoped that Uther would retire for a good night's rest and be in a better mood the next day.

"Burn it."

Arthur did a double take at the king. "What?" he uttered, horrified.

"Until it smolders," he declared, handing Arthur a torch. "These people are traitors and must be made examples of."

The senior knight glanced from the torch to the king, then hardened. "With all due respect, Sire, I was not trained to murder the innocent."

Uther curled his lips. "But you were trained to follow orders."

Arthur's eyes widened a fraction, his mouth set in a hard line. Taking a deep breath, Arthur marched over to the house, torch held aloft. He looked back at king's smug expression, giving him a chance to retract the order. No such retraction was forthcoming.

Aware of everyone's eyes on him, Arthur deliberately raised the torch toward the thatched roof.

And then dunked in down into the family's water barrel, dousing the fire.

Heavy silence blanketed the area as the king and the knight stared one another down.

"Insolent coward."

Moving quickly, Uther grabbed another torch from the hand of a nearby officer, then flung it up onto the roof where it could not be reached. As Arthur and several others gaped in horror, the structure was quickly engulfed in flames. The three inside immediately began to scream and call for help.

Broken from his trance, Arthur jumped into action, using the wet torch to smash the window. Smoke poured out of the opening thickly, choking him and obscuring his sight, but he climbed in anyway, receiving a few cuts in the process.

Though he was unable to see anything but vague shadows, Arthur found his way to them relatively easily, dodging falling debris. He had to force them into motion, first taking the girl and shoving her mother forward, and dragging the baker by his sleeve toward safety.

They escaped with seconds to spare, as the whole building came crashing down right behind him. Just as Arthur passed the child back to her parents, still choking, he felt strong arms grab him. The notion that they were helping him was quickly put down when the hands shoved him onto his knees before the king.

Uther regarded the burning house for a long moment, then turned to the knights holding the baker and family. "Lock them up," he said flippantly. They cried out as they were taken away, begging for mercy that was not given. Arthur glared up at the king, breathing heavily.

"You're mad," he spat.

The king smiled coolly. "The sentence for insubordination is death. Such a pity. You threw away a promising career."

Arthur lifted his chin. "Consider it my highest honor, Uther."

Uther held out his hand for a spear, which was given to him. The senior knight stared at him unwaveringly, holding his gaze. He wanted his eyes to haunt the king for the rest of his life. Uther raised the spear high, muscles quivering.

 _Thunk!_

Uther reeled to one side, dropping the spear to clutch at his head with a shout of surprise. Looking at his palm, he saw red blood smeared across it. More blood poured forth from the gash on his temple as everyone else looked on in shock. Arthur seized his chance, shoving aside his captors and sprinting off.

The king spotted the rock lying nearby. The rock that had struck him, the king.

"He's getting away!" shouted one of the knights.

Uther jerked his head to see that Arthur was, indeed, escaping. He had swiftly cut one of the carriage horses free, mounted it, and kicked it into gear. The horse raced toward the bridge.

"Shoot him!" screeched Uther, pointing a bloodied hand. "Don't hit my horse!"

As Arthur rode off without glancing back, he was showered by arrows. Only one struck its mark: a lucky shot. It pierced the back of his shoulder through a gap in his armor. Its speed and sharp point embedded it deeply.

The knight cried out in anguish, back arching. In the throes of his pain he was unable to remain on the horse and toppled off, ribs striking the low stone wall of the bridge before he toppled over into the water.

"Don't waste your arrows," Uther spat, holding up a hand to stay his knights. "Let the traitor rot in his watery grave. Retrieve my horse. Take me back to the Palace of Justice - and for the love of God, find me a bandage for this wound! Find the girl! Burn the city to the ground, if you must."

As his knights hurried to obey his orders, no one noticed a lone figure sprinting towards the bank of the river, skirts held high above her knees and hair flying behind her. She didn't hesitate to plunge into the frigid water, gulping down a deep breath before diving under.

Through the murkiness, Guinevere was just able to make out the knight, who had sunk like a stone under the heavy weight of his armor. As she neared, she saw the bubbles that clung to his nostrils. It gave her hope.

She looped her arms underneath him, intending to drag him back to shore, but he was too heavy. Thinking quickly, the Druid girl fumbled with the straps of his armor, then gave up and pulled out her boot knife to cut him free. Her lungs were burning, but she didn't dare leave without him.

At last, she slipped the metal over his head, accidentally snapping the arrow and leaving the head buried in his flesh. But there was nothing to be done.

Guinevere tugged him upwards, gasping loudly as she broke the surface. She coughed harshly as she lifted him out, hoping he would breath on his own. He didn't. His blonde hair plastered to his forehead, running rivulets of cold water down his face. Water leaked from his nose and mouth.

Still unwilling to give up, the Druid struggled with his limp form and finally reached the bank, dragging him up onto the grass before dropping him on his back. Guinevere landed on her knees beside him and pressed an ear to his chest. His heart still beat.

The Druid girl placed a hand on his chest and stomach, whispering, " _Brethen_ ," as her eyes flashed gold. She was by no means a powerful magic user, but she hoped it was enough. A second later, Arthur convulsed under her touch, hacking and choking up water. Guinevere breathed a sigh of relief, then turned toward the trees.

'Mordred,' she thought.

'Yes?'

'Bring Aglain and Cerdan. We must get Sir Arthur to safety.'

'I will!'

'Thank you!'

There was no response, as Mordred was already gone. He was young, and though his telepathy was strong, it had a limited range. Guinevere returned her attention to Arthur, who was shivering in his unconsciousness, but at least breathing. She dragged him closer to the bridge so as to be hidden, then held him in her arms to keep him warm.

* * *

"Sire!" said a knight as he jogged up to Uther in the courtyard. "We've looked everywhere, but there's still no sign of the Druid girl."

The king glared at the messenger coldly, then dismissed him. He clenched his fists. "I had the entire cathedral surrounded, guards at every door," he muttered darkly. "There was no way she could have escaped, unless..."

His eyes traveled up to the bell tower, where a high pitched ringing emanated to alert the townspeople of the several fires blazing throughout the city. The king's lips curled upwards.

* * *

Merlin, seeing that people were rushing to put out the fires, ceased ringing Little Sophia. His eyes returned to their vibrant blue, worry creasing his face. The lanky man hurried down the ladder and ran out to the balcony to overlook the panicking city.

"Any sign of her?" he asked.

Will and Freya both shook their heads, while Lancelot ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh," he moaned. "What are we going to do?"

"Do?" Will repeated. "Please, if I know Guinevere, she's probably well out of harm's way by now."

"Do you really think so?"

"She'll be back," Freya said. "You'll see."

"What makes you so sure?" Merlin frowned as Lancelot craned his neck to see about a commotion nearby.

"Because she likes you," she smiled.

"Trust me, Merlin," Will said. "You've got nothing to worry about!"

"I hope you're right," he mumbled sadly.

"Merlin?"

The young man instantly perked and spun around, his friends disappearing in the blink of an eye.

"Merlin?" came the stricken call again.

"Guinevere?!" he gasped as she hurried in, her skirts still dripping and clinging to her legs. She looked a bit haggard, but otherwise unhurt. "Guinevere! You're all right! I knew you'd come back."

Guinevere smiled in relief and hugged him tightly. She pulled away and looked at him imploringly. "You've done so much for me already, Merlin, but I must ask your help one more time."

"Anything," Merlin promised easily.

She offered him a tiny, hopeful smile, and turned to usher someone inside. Two cloaked Druids pushed their ways inside, bearing between them an unconscious, sopping wet Arthur. Morgana followed at their heels, ducking into the room quickly and bleating a greeting. Merlin's face went blank as he recognized the knight.

"This is Arthur," Guinevere explained. "He's wounded, and a fugitive like me. He can't go on much longer. I knew he'd be safe here," she said pleadingly. "Please, can you hide him?"

Merlin didn't need to think about it.

"This way," he said, gesturing to his own bed. It consisted of a straw mattress on the floor, bedded with several layers of thin, scratchy blankets and a thin pillow.

As the Druids laid him down gently, Arthur moaned and came to. Blinking blearily as his eyes opened independently of one another, he struggled to focus. The first face he locked on was, of course, his savior's.

"Guinevere?" he croaked.

She shushed him and pushed him back down as he tried to sit up. "We've already treated your wound. Between the three of us, we are not skilled in healing magic, but it was enough."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully.

She huffed a laugh. "You are either the single bravest soldier I've ever seen, or the craziest."

He smirked mirthlessly. "Ex-soldier, remember?"

"You're lucky," Guinevere insisted seriously. "That arrow almost pierced your heart."

"I'm not so sure it didn't," he replied.

After a brief pause in which they met eyes, reading one another's souls, the two leaned close and kissed. Merlin, in the background, turned away. He felt more embarrassed than sad or jealous. Ha, he'd told his friends he wasn't in love! There was a light thump as Arthur's head fell back onto the pillow, unconscious once more.

Morgana, from the balcony, bleated loudly to garner attention. Guinevere stood in alarm as Merlin went to see what the matter was. After looking out, he turned back quickly.

"Uther's coming," he said to the three Druids. "You must leave. Quick, follow me! Go down the south tower steps."

Aglain and Cerdan took off, and Guinevere ushered Morgana ahead of her. She paused and turned back to Merlin. "Be careful, Merlin. Promise you won't let anything happen to him."

Merlin touched his neckerchief that she had given him. "I promise."

"Thank you," she whispered gratefully. Then she fled.

"Quick!" Freya appeared at Arthur's side, gesturing frantically. "We have to hide the knight."

Merlin ran a hand through his dark locks, panicking. He searched desperately for a place to stash Arthur, ignoring Will's suggestion to throw a blanket over his still form. Hearing Uther's slowly ascending steps, Merlin made his choice.

Hooking his arms underneath Arthur's armpits, he hoisted him up and dragged him toward his carving table. The knight was so much heavier than he looked! Grunting with the effort, Merlin finally managed to get him to the table. Pushing him underneath it was a different problem.

Dropping to his knees, Merlin pushed, but Arthur's limp form merely lolled. Uther was getting closer. Merlin changed position, sitting on his rear and bracing himself with his hands as he pushed with his feet. At last Arthur rolled over onto his stomach, drool dribbling across his cheek, and was obscured by the tablecloth.

Just as Uther arrived, Merlin leapt up and began to fiddle with his toy townspeople, turning in feigned surprise when the king cleared his throat.

"Oh!" Merlin uttered, dropping the models with a clatter. "Master. I-I-I didn't think you'd be coming to-"

"I'm never too busy to share a meal with you, dear boy. I brought a little treat," Uther smiled, holding up the wicker basket.

When Merlin remained frozen, Uther's smile slipped to show a little annoyance, and he cleared his throat importantly. The young man jolted when he realized that he was supposed to set the table, and he raced off to the shelves. Obviously flustered, Merlin dropped several things.

Uther smiled grimly, but then schooled his expression. "Something troubling you, Merlin?"

"No," Merlin shook his head, setting the plates and cups down at the carving table, where Uther had taken a seat. "Nothing at all." He laughed nervously.

"Oh, but there is," Uther said certainly. "I know there is."

Reaching into the basket, Uther pulled out a vine of green grapes - Merlin's favorite. One fell from the branch and onto the floor. Merlin cautiously bent to pick it up, hand so close he could feel Arthur's warm breath.

"I think," Uther studied Merlin as he sat up again, "you're hiding something."

"Oh, no, Master," Merlin denied fervently, "there's nothing -"

"You're not eating, boy," Uther narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Merlin overcompensated by gobbling an entire handful of the grapes. "Mmh," he hummed, mumbling something that sounded along the lines of "It's very good, thank you."

Underneath the table, Arthur moaned. Merlin instantly choked and kicked the wakening knight, sending him back into slumber once more. Uther raised an eyebrow at Merlin's antics.

"Seeds," Merlin explained huskily.

Though it was a weak reason at best, Uther seemed to accept it and turned his gaze to the table. "What's different here?" he asked.

"Nothing, Master," Merlin answered honestly, frowning in confusion.

"Isn't this one new?" Uther held up a woman's figure, skirts painted purple and skin dark. "It's awfully good," he complimented. "Looks very much like the Druid...girl I know." A thunderous expression crossed his face, and he white-knuckled the figure. "You helped her escape!"

Merlin cringed. "But I -"

"And now," Uther shouted, standing abruptly, "all of Camelot is burning because of you!"

Unshed tears hung in his eyes as Merlin's shoulders slumped. "She was kind to me, Master," he said softly.

Much to Merlin's shock and devastation, Uther brought his fists down on his diorama, destroying all of his careful work. He gasped for breath, chest heaving. His fingers tangled in his hair as he watched his master repeat the action again, twice more, thrice more. Nothing was left.

As the king beat on the display, he berated Merlin: "You idiot! That wasn't kindness, it was cunning! She's a Druid! Druids are not capable of real love! Think, boy! Think of your mother!"

Tantrum finished, Uther pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply. After taking a moment to recompose himself, he looked at Merlin.

The warlock was staring at his ruined prize, tears streaking his high cheekbones. Uther felt no remorse, but he knew he had to show it. He cupped Merlin's face gently, and rubbed the water away with his thumbs despite how that action disgusted him.

Merlin raised his eyes to Uther's.

"But what chance could a poor, misguided child like you have against her heathen treachery?" Uther lamented. "Well, never you mind, Merlin. She will be out of our lives soon enough. I will free you from her evil spell. She will torment you no longer."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, voice cracking.

Uther smiled. "I know where her hideout is," he confided. "And tomorrow, at dawn, I attack with a thousand men."

Merlin swallowed hard, and Uther patted his head. Without a goodbye, the king turned and swept from the room. He had things to take care of.

As soon as his footsteps receded, Arthur scooted out from underneath the table, groaning as he stretched his sore muscles.

"We have to find the Crystal Cave," he said, straightening the sword on his belt, "before daybreak." He crossed the room to the staircase. "If Uther gets there first...Are you coming with me?" He turned back, standing akimbo.

Merlin, who hadn't yet moved, slowly looked up, blinking as though just seeing Arthur. "I...can't," he said haltingly.

Arthur glared at him incredulously. "I thought you were Guinevere's friend."

Merlin hunched his shoulders. "Uther's my master. I can't disobey him again. Not again." He helplessly picked tried to set the Palace upright, but it was broken beyond repair and tumbled back down.

Arthur frowned at his back, looking almost pityingly. But he stuck his chin out. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was motivate men. "She stood up for you," he reminded him. "You've got a funny way of showing gratitude."

He paused, waiting for a response. Merlin said nothing, staring at his ruined diorama.

"Well, I'm not going to sit by and watch Uther massacre innocent people. You do what you think is right."

With that, Arthur turned and clomped his way downstairs.

Merlin glared across the table at his three imaginary friends, who looked back at him sorrowfully.

"What do you want?!" Merlin snapped at them. "What am I supposed to do? Huh?! Go out and pretend to be something I'm not? Pretend to be a hero?"

The tears threatened to spill from his eyes again, and furiously rubbed at them. When he looked up, his friends were crying silently.

"Uther was right," Merlin sobbed. "Uther was right about everything. I'm tired of trying to be something I'm not."

Lancelot reached across the table and picked up a broken piece, then extended it to Merlin.

Merlin opened his palm to see Guinevere's wooden head.

Will picked up another piece and placed it in Merlin's other hand.

Guinevere's body.

Freya gave him a watery but encouraging smile. "Do what you think is right, Merlin."

When he looked up, his friends were gone. Through the window in front of him, he saw the smoke stretching skywards.

His fingers slowly curled around the broken model of his friend.

* * *

Arthur nodded respectfully to Saint Gorlois as he passed, sneaking to the door. Though it was the front door, he hoped that no one saw and recognized him. He poked his head out, looking around to be sure it was clear.

Seeing no one about, Arthur exited the church and shut the door silently behind him. A dark figure appeared in front of him, eyes flashing dangerously.

The knight stumbled back in surprise with a shout, instinctively raising his hands.

Merlin righted himself and dropped down to his feet agilely, looking determinedly at Arthur. "I'm coming with you!"

Arthur gaped at him for a moment, then glanced up. Had he - Had he jumped?! But then he shook the question off. There was no time. He smirked. "I'm glad you changed your mind."

The warlock pulled a face. "I'm not doing it for you, you clotpole," he sneered. "I'm doing it for her."

Arthur scoffed at the insult, but let it go. "You know where she is?"

"No."

The blonde man huffed in annoyance. Now they had nowhere to start.

"Oh!" Merlin said, snapping his fingers. He pulled the scarf off of neck and shook it out. "But she did say that this would help us find her."

"Good, good, good!" Arthur grinned, taking the cloth and examining it. "Ahhh, great." He muttered quietly, turning it occasionally, and Merlin watched him with interest. After a moment, Arthur looked up expectantly. "What is this?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure."

"Hmm," Arthur sighed, returning his attention to the design. "It must be some sort of code. Maybe Arabic. No, no. Maybe it's ancient Greek."

Merlin frowned thoughtfully. "When you wear this," he whispered, "you hold the city in your hand."

"What?"

Merlin's face lit up. "It's the city!"

Arthur pulled a face. "What are you talking about?"

"It's a map," Merlin said excitedly. He pointed to the center. "There's the cathedral, see, and here's the river, and -"

"I've never seen a map like this," Arthur spoke over him, "and -"

Both tried to make himself heard over the other, resulting in an unintelligible shouting match. They both ended at the same time:

"And this is it!"

"And this is not it!"

They both took a deep, aggravated breath.

"All right, okay," Arthur conceded, throwing the map at Merlin. "You say it's a map, fine, it's a map. If we're going to find Guinevere, we have to work together. Truce?"

Arthur extended his hand, sticking his chin out. Merlin looked at it for a moment, then shook it.

"Truce."

* * *

Arthur held the torch aloft as they wandered through the graveyard, searching for a tombstone that might match the symbol on the map. So far they'd had no luck, but they figured it would be somewhere near the large central tomb.

They were in luck, finally.

As they reached the grave, the stone above-ground coffin that belonged to some ancient king or other displayed the symbol, one Merlin had recognized. He'd seen it tattooed on many Druids, including Guinevere. Upon hearing that, Arthur shot him a jealous look and asked where it was. Merlin only grinned infuriatingly.

"Okay," Arthur said, leaning close to the coffin to read the inscription. "This might take me a few minutes to translate. It must be our next clue... _HWÆT, WE GAR-DEna in geardagum,_ _þeodcyninga þrym gefrunon."_

The knight leapt back as the stone lid, scraping loudly in the silent atmosphere, slid off. It crashed to the ground, narrowly avoiding crushing his feet. He jerked his head up accusingly at Merlin, whose eyes faded from gold to blue.

"Sorry."

"No, you're not," Arthur muttered irritably. He wrinkled his nose and looked over the edge of the coffin, expecting a decaying skeleton. "Yes, well, or we could go down those stairs," he said.

They ended up in a partially flooded chamber, the walls lined with skeletons. The smell was not as overpowering as they had expected it to be, though it was still rather bad. Merlin wrapped the neckerchief / map around his nose and mouth, earning a contemptful and jealous glare from Arthur.

"Is this the Crystal Cave?" Merlin asked, looking around as though for a sign.

"Offhand," Arthur replied, kicking away a curious rat, "I'd say it's the Ankle Deep Sewage Cave. Ugh! Must be the old catacombs."

As they proceeded, they failed to notice the three skeletons rising behind them.

"Cheerful place," chatted Arthur, his voice echoing. "Kind of makes you wish you got out more often, eh, _Mer_ lin?"

"Not me," Merlin shuddered. "I just want to warn Guinevere and get back to my bell tower. I don't want to get in any more trouble."

"Speaking of trouble," Arthur said lightly, "we should have run into some by now."

"How do you mean?"

"You know," Arthur sighed. "A guard, a booby trap -"

The torch suddenly flickered and extinguised.

"Or an ambush," he finished, punctuating his sentence with the sound of his sword unsheathing.

Merlin and Arthur were nearly blinded by the sudden light that flooded the chamber. The young warlock tilted his head to see several bright orbs floating above them, while Arthur was more preoccupied with the daggers at their throats. He relinquished his weapon sullenly and allowed the men to bind his arms behind his back, as did Merlin.

"Well, well, well," drawled a familiar voice. The boys recognized him as Geoffrey of Monmouth, the Druid who had led the Festival of Fools. "What have we here?"

"Trespassers!" hissed one Druid.

"Spies!" cried another.

Arthur took offense. "We are not spies! Look at my sword, it's -"

"Can you listen -" Merlin tried, speaking to Geoffrey.

With a flash of golden eyes and a snap of his fingers, the Druid leader stuffed both prisoners' mouths with gags. "Don't interrupt me! You're very clever to have found our hideaway. Unfortunately, you won't live to tell the tale."

Though Arthur and Merlin struggled and tried to protest, they were forcefully led deeper into the catacombs. At the end of the chamber was a branch, and they took the right. Soon enough, they happened across an even larger underground room, bright as daylight due to magical orbs.

Druids danced and ate, some slept. Laughter erupted among drinking friends. Most turned when they saw the prisoners being brought in. They were taken up to a tall platform, which before their eyes was transformed into a gallows, and nooses fitted around their necks. Arthur scowled through his gag.

"Gather around, everybody!" called Geoffrey. "There's good 'noose' tonight!"

The Druids laughed at the pun, but Arthur and Merlin rolled their eyes.

"It's a double header, a couple of spies from Uther's army!"

Merlin and Arthur vigorously shook their heads.

"And not just any spies!" Geoffrey continued, holding up a finger and then pointing it toward the pair. "His captain of the knights, and his loyal, bell-ringing henchman!"

The crowd cheered excitedly.

Geoffrey gripped the lever that would drop the trap doors beneath their feet. "Any last words?" he grinned.

Merlin and Arthur both pled through their gags, eyes wide.

"That's what they all say!"

"Wait!" cried a small voice. Mordred pushed his way through the crowd, recognizing Arthur as the man Guinevere had saved.

"Too late!"

"Stop!" Mordred shouted.

"Quiet!" Geoffrey snapped, eyes flashing. Mordred found himself gagged as well, struggling to pull it away from his face. Grinning once more, the man began to pull the lever.

"Stop!"

Merlin and Arthur's shoulders sagged in relief at their savior.

Guinevere was stalking forward angrily. "These men are not spies! They're our friends." With a flash of eyes herself, Merlin and Arthur's gags and bounds were removed, and they worked their jaws and rubbed their wrists gratefully.

Geoffrey laughed heartily. "Why didn't they say so?"

"We did say so!"

Guinevere pointed to Arthur. "This is the knight that saved the baker's family." She pointed to Merlin. "And Merlin helped me escape from the cathedral." At the last bit of information, Arthur raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't react.

Arthur stepped forward, waving off Guinevere's concern. "We've come to warn you!" he announced, garnering the attention of all the Druids. "Uther is coming! He says he knows where you're hiding, and he's attacking at dawn with a thousand men."

Outraged and horrified gasps and cries rippled through the huddled Druids.

Guinevere stepped forward next to him. "Then let us waste no time! We must leave immediately!"

As one, the Druids began to race about the chamber, packing their things and locating their loved ones. Objects and bags, furniture, and even smaller children were levitated into the air out of the way.

Guinevere stepped closer to Arthur to be heard over the chaos. "You took a terrible risk coming here. It may not exactly show, but we're grateful."

As she shortened the distance between them even more, Arthur caught a glimpse of Merlin's lost expression as he tried to get out of a larger man's path. "Don't thank me," he said, almost cursing himself for not taking her gratuitous kiss. "Thank Merlin. Without his help, I would have never found my way here."

Having said it loud enough for those around them to hear, Merlin's face lit up at the praise.

"Nor would I!" exclaimed a gleeful voice.

Their faces fell in dismay as they turned to see King Uther standing in the doorway, sneering at the dumbstruck Druids. Merlin gaped in horror, a sickening realization threatening to overturn his stomach. Knights slunk out of the shadows, weapons drawn, and took several hostages to dissuade the other magic users from exercising their abilities.

"After twenty years of searching," Uther said, grinning and stepping into the room to have a good look around, "the Crystal Cave is mine at last." He stopped beside his pale and shaking ward. "Dear Merlin, I always knew you would someday be of use to me."

Guinevere narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Why," Uther said gleefully, "he led me right to you, my dear."

She shook her head of dark curls. "You're a liar!"

"And," Uther ignored her, "look what else I've caught in my net. Sir Arthur, back from the dead. Another miracle, no doubt. I shall remedy that."

Arthur made an attempt to punch the man, but a knight quickly halted him, and shackled him with heavy iron manacles. Guinevere was shackled as well.

The king stepped forward, making himself the center of attention. "There will be a bonfire in the square tomorrow, and you're all invited to attend. In fact," he said, relishing the terror he saw, "I insist that you come. Knights, lock them up."

Uther snapped his head around when he felt a small tug on the elbow of his sleeve, annoyed at having been interrupted. He curled his lips in disgust when he saw that it was Merlin, tears streaking his cheeks. "No, Master," he begged softly, voice husky, "please."

He shook him off roughly, then sent him sprawling with a harsh slap to the face, much to the outrage of Arthur and Guinevere. The king addressed a nearby knight: "Take him back to the bell tower. And make sure he stays there."

"Yes, Sire."

The knight hauled Merlin to his feet and dragged him away. Merlin hung his head, eyes burning with shame and fear. He had tried to do the right thing, and had failed. By trying to help, he made everything worse. He failed.

"Merlin!" Guinevere called after him.

"Merlin!" Arthur cried, struggling against the hands that restrained him. "Do what's right! Do what's right!"

Neither received any acknowledgement that Merlin had heard, and soon enough he was gone.


	5. The Burning of Guinevere

Chapter 4 - The Burning of Guinevere

[The Next Morning]

As per the law in Camelot, all citizens must attend executions. Though the crowd gathered in the courtyard rivaled even the one on that fateful Festival of Fools, it was eerily silent. The stage had been removed, and in its place was a pyre. Lined up in rows behind the pyre were the Druids, shackled together, along with Arthur. Gaius had shut the doors to the church, unwilling to watch such a cruel display of power as he was held at bay by the waiting knights at the bottom of his steps. Everyone looked drawn and solemn but for Uther.

Tied to the pyre was Guinevere, who stood tall and strong, glaring at Uther for all her worth. He gave her a smug look before turning to address the people.

"The prisoner Guinevere has been found guilty of the crime of witchcraft! The sentence: death!" Uther paused, expecting cheers, but none came.

He leaned close to Guinevere to whisper. "The time has come, Druid. You stand upon the brink of the abyss. Yet even now, it is not too late. I can save you from the flames of this world, and the next." He licked his lips. "Choose me, or the fire."

Guinevere spat in his face.

Uther recoiled, swiping his eyes clear them of the saliva. Angry, he turned back to people. "The Druid Guinevere has refused to recant. This evil witch has put the soul of every citizen of Camelot in mortal danger..."

Uther's voice floated upwards, eventually reaching Merlin's ears in the bell tower. The young man sported a bruised cheek and split lip, head drooping toward his chest. Tears fell relentlessly from his lashes, but he was unable to wipe them away. The heavy iron chains that rooted him to his place between the two balcony pillars prevented any movement to free himself.

"Come on, Merlin!" Will urged. "Fight!"

"Your friends are down there," Lancelot said.

"It's all my fault," Merlin sobbed.

Freya cupped his cheeks in her hands, kneeling in front of him with an urgent expression. "You have to break these chains!"

"I can't," Merlin choked. "I tried. Magic won't work on them. Besides, what difference would it make?!"

Lancelot knelt on Merlin's right side. "You can't let Uther win!"

"He already has."

Will glared scornfully down at Merlin. "So you're giving up? That's it?"

Freya tipped his chin up so that he would look into her eyes. "These chains aren't what's holding you back, Merlin."

Merlin jerked his head away, scrunching his eyes closed. "Leave me alone."

After a moment of silence, Merlin slowly reopened his eyes. His friends were gone. Below, in the courtyard, Merlin could see Guinevere standing on the pyre. Uther, only a few steps away from her, was holding a flaming torch. Tiny flecks of gold appeared like embers in his blue irises.

"...for justice," Uther's faraway voice filtered into Merlin's ears even as his blood pounded in them, his breaths coming hard and fast. "For Camelot, and for her own salvation! It is my shameful duty to send this poor girl back to where she belongs!"

With that, Uther touched the torch to the kindling riddled throughout the pyre, lighting it ablaze.

"NO!" Merlin roared, face contorting in rage.

His eyes flared a gold so bright and intense that it rivaled the sunshine, his power unleashing in monumental proportions. With a building scream, the very structure of the Camelot Palace itself began to shake, trembling from the power of the mighty Emrys. The bells above him rang softly, but then more loudly as the church heaved to and fro.

The pillars on either side of Merlin cracked ominously, pieces of stone crumbling and growing in size, unleashing a heavy amount of dust. The iron chains that bound Merlin glowed as brightly as his eyes, blinding those below who searched out the source of the earthquake. Then the chains disintegrated, small sparks bursting and fading midair.

Finally freed, Merlin stood, fists clenched at his sides.

 _"Do what's right!"_

 _"Merlin!"_

 _"You can't let Uther win!"_

 _"Fight!"_

Arthur gaped up at the bell tower, which had finally ceased shaking. In the wake of the destruction stood a lone figure. Despite how far away he was, Arthur recognized him immediately. "Merlin..." he breathed in awe.

Guinevere's harsh, choking coughs snapped him out of his trance. He redirected his attention to the pyre, where the Druid girl was writhing, eyes flickering even through the hazy smoke. She was unable to free herself, however, not possessing the sheer power Merlin had.

"Merlin!" Arthur bellowed.

But Merlin was already in motion. He had leapt from the balcony, the wind resistance of his plummet doing little to slow him. The warlock landed lightly on the head of a statue, then jumped forward -

Only he suddenly disappeared without a trace, and reappeared beside Uther.

The king stumbled back in shock, but mostly fear.

Merlin did not have eyes for him, however. He doused the flames with a calm sweep of his arm, clearing the smoke away with another sweep in the opposite direction. Guinevere wheezed, struggling to focus on Merlin through her streaming eyes.

Uther had finally recovered as Merlin stepped up to untie the Druid. He pulled his sword and raised it over his head, snarling in the back of his throat as he charged the boy's back. Arthur shouted a warning, but again Merlin had not needed it. With Guinevere safely in his arms, Merlin summoned a whirlwind, pushing Uther backwards and transporting him back to the bell tower with his friend.

He turned to glare at the king, eyes still glowing. Using magic to multiply his strength, Merlin shifted the unconscious Guinevere so that he could hoist her into the air above his head.

"Sanctuary!" he bellowed.

The crowd began to cheer, whooping and jumping for joy. No one more so than Arthur and his fellow prisoners.

"Sanctuary!" Merlin screamed. "Sanctuary!"

By then Uther had gotten back up to his feet, fury evident in every line of his face. "Seize the cathedral!" he ordered.

Merlin lowered Guinevere as the knights obeyed, turning to take her into the safety of the church. He took her to his bed and gently laid her down. At last, his eyes returned to their normal blue hue.

"Don't worry," he smiled down at her. "You'll be safe here."

Guinevere did not reply. Her face was smooth and clear of discomfort. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, then left her to sleep.

Merlin reappeared at the balcony. He saw that most of the citizens had fled Uther's wrath. The Druid prisoners, shackled as they were, could not escape. A shout, followed by a dull thud, drew his attention. Merlin bent over the railing to glimpse a view of a battering ram wielded by a group of knights. Uther was supervising, shouting obscenities each time the door held.

He grinned, then turned and raced up the ladder.

"Hullo, Leon," he greeted, approaching the triplets. "Percival, Elyan. Today's the today."

They began to ring, their combined voices tolling loudly under the influence of his magic. Then he let Elyan loose, and it swung free from its latch. It clanged against the edge of the window, then fell.

There were several shouts of surprise and pain, and Elyan sang a victory din.

Leon went next, though he had less success because the knights below spotted him coming. He managed to nab a few, though. Merlin, still ringing Percival, stuck his head out, bracing his weight on the sill. Knights were pointing up at him and shouting. The battering ram had been abandoned in their panic. Uther was in perfect position.

The king blanched as he saw Percival, the last of the triplet bells, falling fast. He threw himself toward the oaken doors, narrowly avoiding the huge projectile, bounced and rolled away to join its brothers. He cast a glare up, which turned into a sneer. The ram had smashed a rather large hole through the wood already. He could easily widen it with his own hands.

* * *

"Hi there."

The knight suddenly choked, fingers scrabbling at the chains Arthur wrapped mercilessly against his throat. Out of air, the knight went limp, and Arthur made quick work of collecting his keys. After freeing himself, he passed the keys to the Druid beside him and jumped up onto the podium Uther had been using.

"Citizens of Camelot!" he rallied for attention. "Uther has persecuted our people, ransacked our city! Now he has declared war on Camelot herself! Will we allow that?!"

"No!" shouted the remainders of the citizens and the Druids.

"We must take matters into our own hands! For Camelot!"

"For Camelot!" was the answering war cry.

All at once, several things happened: One of the stronger Druids used his magic to unlock the rest of the prisoners' manacles; knights suddenly found that they were being attacked by angry citizens and magic users alike; and Arthur looked up to see Merlin, from his balcony, casting magic on the statue that he had minutes ago used to jump down from.

The statue was of the chief saint of their religion: Cornelius Sigan. When he had lived, he could work any miracle. He could change day to night, turn the tides, and even laid the foundations for Camelot herself.

And, as Arthur watched, Saint Sigan, a forty-foot stone giant, moved.

* * *

Uther hardly felt the splinters in his hands. His wild gaze locked onto the stairs that he knew led up to the bell tower. He made toward it.

"Uther!" barked Gaius, appearing, as he often did, and blocking the stairway as Uther barrelled toward him. "Have you gone mad? I will not tolerate this attack on -"

"Silence, you old fool!" Uther hissed venomously, shoving Gaius to the floor. The old man cried out as a brittle bone in his arm snapped under his weight. Uther gave pause in the doorway to glare coldly down at him. "The sorcerer and I have unfinished business to attend to. And this time, you will not interfere."

Gaius panted raggedly, eyes fluttered closed as he blacked out where he lay.

Uther continued upwards, taking a moment to shut the door and bolt it from the inside, ensuring that no one would follow.

* * *

Upstairs, Merlin jubilantly skidded to a halt at Guinevere's bedside. "We've done it!" he told her. "Guinevere, we've beaten them back! We've won!"

Guinevere did not respond, showed no indication that she had heard him.

"Guinevere?" he repeated breathlessly, brow creasing. "Wake up! Come and see. You're safe now."

He paused, waiting for her response. When still none was forthcoming, he placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently.

Then vigorously.

Then violently.

Then, with a shuddering gasp, Merlin snatched his hand back. "Oh, no," he uttered, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as his tears ran anew.

Hearing a familiar step behind him, Merlin swallowed his grief and turned his head slightly. "You killed her," he stated quietly.

"It was my duty," Uther replied simply, calmly, "horrible as it was. I hope you can forgive me. There, there, Merlin, I know it hurts. But now, the time has come to end your suffering."

Behind Merlin, Uther raised a sharp dagger, preparing to stab him to kill. Merlin's face twisted, eyes locked on the shadow of his murdering master splayed on the wall in front of him. With a ferocious snarl, Merlin whipped around and shoved Uther with his bare hands, the magic sparking at his fingertips adding tremendous force.

Dropping the knife with a clatter, Uther flew back and crumpled in a heap in the far corner, windless. The king, hand wrapped around his chest, painstakingly pushed himself into a sitting position. As he looked up, he saw Merlin, eyes glowing, the rotating knife levitating a few inches beside his outstretched hand.

"Now, now, Merlin, listen to me!"

"No, you listen!" shouted Merlin emotionally. "All my life you have told me that I am a dark, evil creature. But now, I see that the only thing dark and cruel is people like _you_!"

The blade torpedoed towards Uther, who had no chance nor means of protecting himself. It landed with a sharp _thwack!_ Uther gasped harshly, then choked on his breath.

Merlin turned away, his gaze softening as he laid his eyes on Guinevere, his first real friend. "I'm not going to kill you," he said sternly. "I am better than you, Uther."

Uther exhaled shakily, frozen in his place in the corner. The knife still quivered, the tip embedded deep into the wood a mere inch from Uther's right shoulder.

The warlock knelt once more beside Guinevere. He was determined to save her, but how? He placed a hand over her still chest, feeling no heartbeat. Merlin pressed his other hand over his own breast. His heart pounded fast, but strong. There had to be something he could do.

His eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head back.

"Please," he whispered. "I don't know what to do. Please help me...!"

Far below, in the hall of statues, a feminine voice answered. " _Libban...! Libban...! Libban...!"_

Merlin's eyes snapped open, irises gold. Somehow, someway, his prayer had been answered. In a deep, powerful voice he hadn't known he'd possessed, he spoke a single word: " _Libban."_

 _LIVE._

"Merlin?"

He gasped, magic receding once more. Merlin doubled over, heart pounding erratically in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear it of the dizziness, smiling weakly at Guinevere.

"Guinevere!" he breathed.

"Are you all right?" she asked, pushing herself into a sitting position.

Merlin laughed giddily and flung himself at her, wrapping her tightly in his arms. She seemed confused, but, never one to turn down a hug, returned the embrace.

"She lives!" Uther hissed. "Impossible!"

As the two young ones were enveloped in their hug, Uther stealthily yanked the weapon from the wall and stood, knees wobbling. He staggered forward, raising the knife. Only when his shadow fell over her face did Guinevere open her eyes, mouth opening in an 'o' of surprise.

"Merlin!"

He moved too late, sluggish and exhausted from his exertion when saving Guinevere. Uther plunged the blade down into his back.

Merlin screamed, voice cracking, arching his back. Guinevere cried out as well, but before she could do anything, Uther had pulled the knife free and raised it again. The metal, stained crimson, glinted in the light. The warlock collapsed forward into Guinevere's arms, shirt quickly turning red.

Guinevere pushed Merlin aside and threw herself forward as Uther attacked again, tackling him around his knees. Uther went down hard, losing his grip on the knife once more.

While he was disoriented, Guinevere rushed to Merlin's side. "Merlin, get up!" she cried, tugging his arm urgently.

Merlin moaned, eyes rolling.

"Get up! Get up!"

Uther was reaching for the knife again, and blocking their escape. Guinevere turned to the balcony, then glanced at Merlin's state. He was their only hope.

"Merlin, please!"

At last, Merlin responded, holding her hand in a vice-like grip. He was pale and shaking from the pain, and his right arm didn't seem to work correctly, but he was awake. Guinevere cast another look to Uther to see that he was on his feet again, looking more crazed by the minute.

"Balcony," Merlin gasped, struggling to get up.

Guinevere took most of his weight and hurried him to the railing across the room.

"Leaving so soon?" cackled Uther behind them, following.

"Hold on," Merlin mumbled.

Guinevere helped him up onto the mason work, then wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. He only had one arm to work with this time. Merlin's eyes turned gold, but they were a thousandfold duller than before.

They dropped together, but Merlin gasped and grabbed back onto the rail at the last second. He'd forgotten that he'd made Saint Sigan fall forward, breaking up most of the fighting. No one had been crushed but Sigan - He was made of stone, after all.

But he regretted it now that his go-to landing place was gone, leaving nothing but a three-hundred foot drop beneath them. He was too weak to slow their descent enough that they would not get hurt.

Uther appeared, grinning maliciously. He raised the knife.

With a brief flare of molten gold, Merlin sent Uther sprawling back once more. His grip slipped slightly, and he tightened his hold. He could feel Guinevere's worried and terrified eyes on him.

Merlin couldn't seem to think straight.

"Up there!" cried a distant voice below.

Merlin's head spun. "Guinevere," he gasped out. "S-sorry, but...You have to...climb back up...I can't..."

Guinevere quickly complied. "Hold on, Merlin!" she whispered, reaching for the railing.

Uther pulled himself up slowly and painfully, the knife lost. He bared his teeth at Merlin. "I should have known," he growled ferally, "that you'd risk your life to save that Druid witch. Just as your own mother died trying to save you."

Merlin's eyes widened. "What...?"

Guinevere, while Uther was distracted, clambered back to safety.

"Now," Uther continued, "I'm going to do what I should have done twenty years ago!"

Merlin braced himself for the hit the mad king was about to deliver, but Guinevere rescued him once more, grabbing his fist with both hands. Uther let out a frustrated scream and tried to push her away, but she clung fast, gold burning beneath her long lashes. As they struggled, Uther lost his balance, and the girl gave one final push.

He tumbled over the railing, arms pinwheeling. He fell.

Guinevere immediately grabbed onto Merlin's arm, intending to pull him up. They both cried out, she in alarm, he in pain, as a sudden weight dragged him down. Uther had latched onto Merlin's ankle, saving himself from certain doom.

"Let...go!" Merlin groaned, throwing his head back.

"Merlin, hold on!"

Uther had no intention of releasing his ward. He grinned, knowing that even if he died, he'd be taking the creature he so hated along with him. His smile faded as he felt something slip, and it wasn't his hand.

Merlin's boot was sliding off.

"Merlin!" Guinevere strained. She was struggling with the weight of two men then, since Merlin had fainted from blood loss. She was well on her way to pitching head-first over the railing, as her upper body was doubled over it. The stone dug painfully into her hips, but she refused to let go.

Uther made a grab for Merlin's other foot, hoping that that one was more secure. But as he swung himself, the boot came off, and for a split second Uther felt weightless. Then he was falling, the image of Guinevere desperately clinging to Merlin, of all people, the last thing he ever saw.

Guinevere could have sobbed in relief once Uther had finally fallen. Without his weight, she thought she might be able to pull the unconscious Merlin up. But then he began to slip.

She gasped, realizing that her palms were slick with sweat.

"No, no," she uttered, white-knuckling his arm. She was sure to leave bruises, but if it saved him she didn't care. "Merlin! Merlin!"

He was unresponsive.

He slipped out of her grasp, leaving her empty hands stretching for him as he fell.

" _Merlin!"_

* * *

"Up there!"

Arthur ceased his fighting and looked up to where a knight had pointed. His jaw dropped upon seeing Merlin and Guinevere hanging from the balcony. Guinevere appeared to be trying to get back onto the landing, but Merlin was not helping her. His right arm dangled uselessly at his side, the sleeve dyed a startling red. Just as Guinevere managed to grab hold of the architecture and swing herself off of Merlin's shoulders, Uther appeared.

His friends were in trouble.

The knight, sheathing his sword, sprinted toward the Palace. He jumped over several of the boulders - all that was left of Saint Sigan after his nasty fall - and forced his way in through the same hole Uther had used. Arthur immediately made for the stairs that led to the bell tower, but he slammed into the locked door, banging his head hard enough to leave a bruise.

He yanked and shoved, rattling the handle, but it was locked. Arthur took a few steps back to get a running start.

"Other...stairs," wheezed an elderly voice.

Arthur jolted in surprise, then looked down to see Gaius, lying on the marble floor. He hurried to his side. "Are you all right?"

Gaius nodded, waving away his concern. "Merlin," he said. "Stairs, back there." He pointed off to another corridor. "Save...Merlin...!"

"I will," Arthur promised, pushing himself up. He left the old man, taking off in the direction he'd indicated. He ran as fast as he could, nearly missing the stairs in his haste. The knight skidded to a halt and stumbled back, taking the steps three at a time.

He was completely unaware that he had taken the wrong stairs.

When Arthur reached the landing and burst through the door, expecting to find more stairs leading up, he was both shocked and devastated to see that he was three floors beneath where he need to be - with no other way up.

"Damn it!" he cursed, running his fingers through his soaked hair, gasping lungfuls of air.

"Merlin!"

Arthur jumped over to the railing that overlooked the courtyard and twisted his body so that he could crane his neck upwards. He was directly beneath a dangling Merlin, who was twenty-four feet up. Guinevere, as far as the knight could, was hanging onto him, which meant that Uther must have been defeated.

He risked a glance down, and, sure enough, the broken body of Uther lay crumpled in the courtyard. His blood stained the stones Saint Sigan. What was left of him, anyway.

Guinevere screamed Merlin's name again. Arthur noted the shrill change in her tone and whipped his head up again, just in time to register that Merlin was falling - fast.

"Merlin!" he cried out in much the same manner as Guinevere.

There wasn't much a chance of it working, but Arthur knew he had to try.

Bracing his feet, Arthur outstretched his arms.

And Merlin, having fallen alongside the building, fell right into them.

As soon as he felt Merlin, Arthur snapped his muscles taut, catching him. But Merlin's momentum and weight nearly took his arms out of his sockets, and bent Arthur nearly double. Groaning loudly, Arthur clung to the skinny warlock with all his strength, then straightened his back with another pained grunt.

His muscles, particularly the ones around his still-healing arrow wound, screamed as he pulled Merlin to safety.

The young man chose that particular moment to wake up, moaning lowly from the pain.

"You idiot," Arthur gasped, dumping him onto the floor and then flopping down beside him. He heaved for breath for a few minutes. "You don't get to complain...I saved your arse."

Merlin's face screwed up as he bit back a pained cry. His only comfort was that the cold marble beneath him was beginning to numb his fiery wound. "Prat."

"Clotpole."

"That's...my word."

"Shut up, _Mer_ lin."

"Guinevere," he said.

"She can find her way down here," Arthur said flippantly, groaning at as his muscles gave a nasty twinge. "Oh, Saint Gorlois!"

"I need Gaius," Merlin whimpered, his arm tingling.

"Gaius can't come right now."

"Oh...I need Saint Alice, then...Arthur, you talk funny, you know."

"I do not! Shut up, _Mer_ lin!"

After a moment of lying in companionable silence, Arthur forced himself up with a pained groan, then reached down and pulled Merlin to his feet. They supported each other as best they could and began the long descent back to the ground level.

* * *

Guinevere fumbled with the latch at the base of the stairs, then finally burst into the main chamber of the church. She didn't know how Arthur had known to get to the balcony below them, but she was ever so glad he did. If he hadn't...The Druid girl shook her head to clear it of the image of Uther's broken body far below them.

As she turned, wondering which way to go, a familiar bleat echoed.

"Morgana?"

Guinevere expected the little goat to come to her, as she usually did, but this time she didn't. Her chocolate eyes spied Gaius' still form lying a few feet away at the feet of Ygraine. Morgana was lying at his side, legs tucked underneath her. She picked up her head from where it was resting on the physician's shoulder, bleating again.

"Oh, no!" she gasped, hurrying over. "Gaius?"

The old man stirred. "Ah," he smiled weakly, "Guinevere."

"Gaius, are you hurt?" she asked, hands hovering.

"Broken arm," he grunted. "But never mind me." His blue eyes glanced over her shoulder, filling with worry when he saw that she was the only arrival. "Where is Merlin?"

"He's alive," Guinevere said quickly. "He's with Arthur. He's safe."

"And Uther?"

"Dead."

Gaius sighed and shook his head. "I feared it would come to this. The king had always been rather unstable."

Guinevere nodded. "Here, I'll find something to set your arm."

"Thank you, my dear."

"Morgana, stay here."

The goat did as she was told, laying her head comfortingly on Gaius' shoulder again. Guinevere wandered away quickly, hoping to help Gaius and then go find the boys. Though she knew Arthur had managed to save him, she wasn't sure that he would be able to do anything for Merlin's wound. Arthur could have been wounded as well, considering the destruction she'd seen down in the square.

She'd missed a lot after she'd fainted from the smoke.

Guinevere finally spotted something that might be of use. One of the many pews had been crushed by a statue - which had fallen during Merlin's display of power - and some of the wood had broken cleanly. They were also of the perfect length for setting Gaius' arm, so she happily gathered them and returned to his side.

If she had known anything about the old man's religion, she would have noticed that the fallen statue was Alice, the patron Saint of healing.

"Here we are, Gaius," she said, kneeling at his side. She tore some strips of cloth from the hem of her outermost skirt, despite his protests to use his robes. Guinevere then carefully aligned two of the pegs to straighten out the bone, and Gaius held one in place as she wound the fabric around. She used magic to tie it off tightly.

"Well done," Gaius said gratefully.

"Guinevere!"

She snapped her gaze up, relief filling her eyes. "Arthur! Merlin!"

They grinned largely at her. Both were exhausted, but happy to come out more or less in one piece.

"Merlin, my boy!" Gaius faltered at the sight of Merlin's right arm. The blood flow had mostly stemmed, but there was still a lot of it.

"I'm all right," Merlin reassured him weakly. "Gaius! Gaius, I've missed you."

"And I you, Merlin," Gaius said, raising his good arm as Arthur deposited the weary warlock beside him. "Now let's have a look at that wound."

As the physician fussed over Merlin, Guinevere tended to Arthur. "Are you all right?"

"Been better," Arthur admitted, rolling his stiff shoulders. "Merlin's a lot heavier than he looks."

She smiled. "Thank you, Arthur. If you hadn't been there...he would have..."

Guinevere ducked her head, hiding her tearful eyes from him. But Arthur tipped her chin back up and brushed a curly lock of hair from her face. "But he didn't," he said.

The Druid girl threw her arms around Arthur's neck and pulled him close, pressing her lips against his. His eyes widened for a second, but after his initial astonishment, he kissed her back, heat rising in his cheeks.

Merlin, despite wincing from Gaius' ministrations, beamed as he watched them. Morgana shook her head at the display, ears flapping, and nuzzled up to Merlin. He petted her absently, occasionally hissing as Gaius tried to fix the damage Uther had done.

"Gaius," he said thoughtfully, watching as the pair broke apart and joined hands.

"Yes, Merlin?"

"I'm sorry I ruined your church."

Gaius chuckled dryly. "Yes, well, you're going to help me fix it, aren't you?"

"Of course!" Merlin said, brightening a little. "Only, I was wondering, Gaius, since Uther is gone...Who is my master now?"

Gaius' hand disappeared from Merlin's back, and the old physician rounded Merlin's side to gaze at him solemnly. "No one is your master, Merlin. You are your own man. No one controls you any longer."

Merlin's brows knitted together. "But what do I do now? Who's going to ring the bells?"

"Well," Gaius said slowly. "You could do it, if you wanted."

"Oh," Merlin grinned, "yes, I would like that very much, Gaius. I love the bells!"

"Then it's settled," Gaius said. "And now that you're your own man, my boy, you can come and go as you please. And you'll be earning your keep, so long as you ring those bells for me."

"And can I come and see you every day, Gaius?"

"I would like that very much, Merlin."

The young man smiled so widely that he felt his face might break.

Guinevere, having finished speaking with Arthur, came over with him. "How is he, Gaius?"

"He'll live," Gaius answered. "All he really needs is rest. The stab was not very deep - Or, it was, but Merlin's always been a quick healer on account of his magic. The reason he's so very tired is that his magic is still stitching him back together."

Arthur snorted, arrow wound still burning. "Lucky."

"Thank you, Merlin," Guinevere said. "For everything."

"Oh, no," Merlin shook his head. "It wasn't all me. I had help bringing you back to life, you know."

The other three fell silent in shock.

"Back...to life?" Arthur asked weakly, shooting a glance toward Guinevere, who looked utterly confused.

"Whatever do you mean, my boy?" Gaius prompted.

"Well," Merlin said, shifting uncomfortably, "when I brought you inside after I saved you from the pyre, I thought you were sleeping. But when I tried to wake you, you weren't breathing, and your heart was still.

"I tried to heal you, but I had no idea what to do, you know. I've never used my magic so much before I met you! But then someone helped me - a woman. She said, ' _libban_ '."

Guinevere placed a hand over her heart, reeling. She slowly turned to the pregnant statue, daring to wonder. "Ygraine..." she breathed.

Gaius smiled. "Ygraine became a saint for a reason. She helps all who ask for it."

She smiled, breast swelling with gratitude. Without giving it a thought, she clasped her hands and bowed her head toward Ygraine, thanking her silently.

* * *

"Who's going to rule Camelot?" Merlin asked, popping up over Arthur's shoulder. He squinted at the calligraphy, trying to make out Arthur's hand, but he had only been taught to read print and so he gave up.

Arthur finished the word he was writing with a flourish, then huffed and jerked his shoulder to get Merlin off of him. "We don't know, _Mer_ lin. Uther had no heir, and there is no next of kin. The council is probably going to appoint a Regent. Probably Gaius."

Merlin oggled, turning to look over his shoulder at his mentor, who was reshelving several dusty tomes with his good arm. "Gaius is going to be king?!"

"Regent, you idiot. There's a difference."

"I think you should be the king, Arthur."

Realizing that Merlin was not going to leave him be so that he could write to his mother and sister, Nimueh and Morgause, Arthur dropped his quill into the inkwell. "And why do you say that, _Mer_ lin?"

"Well, because you're a strong leader," Merlin listed off, raising his eyes as he thought, "you're good with a sword, people listen to you, you have a horse named George, you're kind, you're the senior knight -"

"Was the senior knight," Arthur corrected.

"Well, when Gaius is Regent, I'll just ask him to make you a knight again! And then Gaius can crown you king, and Camelot will live happily ever after."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't know what fairy tales you've been reading -"

"Something about a hunchback in Paris or some-"

"But I'm not going to be king, _Mer_ lin. I have to go home eventually," Arthur finished, taking up his writing utensil again.

Merlin was silent for a moment. "You don't like it here?"

Arthur paused. "I do like it here," he replied gently. "But my mother and sister, and all my friends - They're waiting for me at home."

"Oh...Where is your home, Arthur?"

"Across the sea."

"Oh. So that's why you talk funny."

"I do not talk funny, _Mer_ lin!"

"Oh, but you're from across the sea, you know."

"Shut up, _Mer_ lin!"

"What about Guinevere?"

Arthur paused again. "Well," he said slowly, "I thought perhaps that she'd come with me."

"Across the sea?"

"Yes."

"Oh...I see."

Chewing his cheek, Arthur dared to turn around. He regretted to see the hurt expression on Merlin's open face. The knight cleared his throat. "But, well, I'll still be here a while yet. So we have time together, and all."

A small smile crept across Merlin's face, but his eyes still beseeched his stay.

Arthur sighed heavily. "All right, I'll _think_ about it, _Mer_ lin!"

The dark-haired warlock grinned. "Prat."

"Idiot."

"Dollophead."

"Clotpole."

"That's my word!"

"Honestly, _Mer_ lin, go bother someone else!" Arthur shooed him away, anxious to get back to his letter. Merlin chortled and flounced away to continue helping Gaius. Having lost his train of thought thanks to a certain busybody, Arthur reread what he had written:

 _Dearest Mother and Sister:_

 _Camelot is a beautiful place. The people here are kind and welcoming, and though there are a few problematic and unfair laws, as a whole the system is good. And you'll be glad to know that_ _I have been praying regularly at the Camelot Palace. I feel practically at home here._

 _I've met a wonderful girl here as well. Her name is Guinevere, and we have fallen in love. She has agreed to marry me, but it may be a while before we have the ceremony. We will be sure to invite the both of you once everything is settled._

 _Unfortunately, only a few days after my arrival, King Uther had taken ill and passed away. The church leader, Gaius, will be appointed Regent, and from there it will be decided who will be king. Gaius, as well as a few citizens of Camelot, has expressed his desire that I offer my service and take the throne._

 _If I do this, then I will remain in Camelot. But I have yet to decide what I wish to do._

 _I have made a new friend, as well. He is a commoner, but he is the bravest man I have ever had the fortune to meet. Never tell him I wrote that, if you should meet him. He's got a large enough head as it is. Don't even read this letter aloud; his humongous ears could pick it up from all the way across the waves._

Arthur nodded at his work, and leaned forward to pick up where he left off. The letter was nearly finished, anyway. There was no need to worry his family by recounting all the horrors of the last week.

 _My friend's name is Merlin._

 _I hope to hear back from you both soon. I have a busy day ahead of me._

 _With love, Arthur._

END.

 **A/N:** Sorry for this one being so far behind the others! I had some internet troubles...

Anyway, thanks so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this story, and I hope you liked it. I really appreciate you guys.


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